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Love  and 

Mr  T 

Lewisham 

By 

H.  G.  Wells 


MMMMM 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


Love  and 

MrLEWISHAM 

The  Story  of  a  Very  Young  Couple 

By 

H.  G.  Wells 

Author  of  "The  Time  Machine,"  "The  Wonderful 
Visit,"  and  "When  the  Sleeper  Wakes." 


"  Great  Spirits  and  Great  Businesse  doe  keepe  out  this  weak  Passion 
.  .  .  yet  Love  can  finde  Entrance  not  only  into  an  open  Heart  but 
also  into  a  Heart  well  fortified,  if  Watch  be  not  well  kept." — Bacon 


Second  Edition. 


±yi 


Jfteto  gorfe 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

Publishers 


— ] 


Copyright,  1899,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


pRzr 

L 

UNDER 

LIB; 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.  Introduces  Mr.  Lewisham i 

II.  "As  the  Wind  Blows" n 

III.  The  Wonderful  Discovery 22 

IV.  Raised  Eyebrows 28 

V.  Hesitations 37 

VI.  The  Scandalous  Ramble 43 

VII.  The  Reckoning 58 

VIII.  The  Career  Prevails 70 

IX.  Alice  Heydinger 78 

X.  In  the  Gallery  of  Old  Iron 85 

XI.  Manifestations 91 

XII.  Lewisham  is  Unaccountable 106 

XIII.  Lewisham  Insists .  „ 109 

XIV.  Mr.  Lagune's  Point  of  View 119 

XV.  Love  in  the  Streets 126 

XVI.  Miss  Heydinger's  Private  Thoughts 136 

XVII.  In  the  Raphael  Gallery 141 

XVIII.  The  Friends  of  Progress  Meet 147 

XIX.  Lewisham' s  Solution 162 

XX.  The  Career  is  Suspended 171 

XXI.  Home  ! 181 

XXII.  Epithalamy 184 

XXIII.  Mr.  Chaffery  at  Home 191 

XXIV.  The  Campaign  Opens 216 

XXV.  The  First  Battle 226 

XXVI.  The  Glamour  Fades 247 

ill 


iv  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVII    Concerning  a  Quarrel 256 

XXVIII.  The  Coming  of  the  Roses 272 

XXIX.  Thorns  and  Rose  Petals 282 

XXX.  A  Withdrawal 297 

XXXI.  In  Battersea  Park 309 

XXXII.  The  Crowning  Victory 318 


LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 


CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCES   MR.  LEWISHAM 

The  opening  chapter  does  not  concern  itself 
with  Love — indeed  that  antagonist  does  not  cer- 
tainly appear  until  the  third — and  Mr.  Lewisham 
is  seen  at  his  studies.  It  was  ten  years  ago,  and  in 
those  days  he  was  assistant  master  in  the  Whortley 
Proprietary  School,  Whortley,  Sussex,  and  his 
wages  were  forty  pounds  a  year,  out  of  which  he  had 
to  afford  fifteen  shillings  a  week  during  term  time 
to  lodge  with  Mrs.  Munday,  at  the  little  shop  in 
the  West  Street.  He  was  called  "  Mr."  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  the  bigger  boys,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  learn,  and  it  was  a  matter  of  stringent  regula- 
tion that  he  should  be  addressed  as  "  Sir." 

He  wore  ready-made  clothes,  his  black  jacket  of 
rigid  line  was  dusted  about  the  front  and  sleeves  with 
scholastic  chalk,  and  his  face  was  downy  and  his 
moustache  incipient.      He  was  a  passable-looking 


2  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

youngster  of  eighteen,  fair-haired,  indifferently 
barbered  and  with  a  quite  unnecessary  pair  of 
glasses  on  his  fairly  prominent  nose — he  wore  these 
to  make  himself  look  older,  that  discipline  might 
be  maintained.  At  the  particular  moment  when 
this  story  begins  he  was  in  his  bedroom.  An  attic 
it  was,  with  lead-framed  dormer  windows,  a  slanting 
ceiling  and  a  bulging  wall,  covered,  as  a  number  of 
torn  places  witnessed,  with  innumerable  strata  of 
florids  old-fashioned  paper. 

To  judge  by  the  room  Mr.  Lewisham  thought 
little  of  Love  but  much  on  Greatness.  Over 
the  head  of  the  bed,  for  example,  where  good 
folks  hang  texts,  these  truths  asserted  themselves, 
written  in  a  clear,  bold,  youthfully  florid  hand  : — 
"  Knowledge  is  Power/'  and  "  What  man  has  done 
man  can  do," — man  in  the  second  instance  re- 
ferring to  Mr.  Lewisham.  Never  for  a  moment 
were  these  things  to  be  forgotten.  Mr.  Lewisham 
could  see  them  afresh  every  morning  as  his  head 
came  through  his  shirt.  And  over  the  yellow- 
painted  box  upon  which — for  lack  of  shelves — Mr. 
Lewisham's  library  was  arranged,  was  a  "  Schema." 
(Why  he  should  not  have  headed  it  "  Scheme,"  the 
editor  of  the  Church  Times,  who  calls  his  miscella- 
neous notes  "  Varia"  is  better  able  to  say  than  I). 
In  this  scheme,  1892  was  indicated  as  the  year  in 
which  Mr.  Lewisham  proposed  to  take  his  B.  A. 


INTRODUCES  MR.  LEWISHAM  3 

degree  at  the  London  University  with  "  hons.  in  all 
subjects,"  and  1895  as  the  date  of  his  "  gold  medal." 
Subsequently  there  were  to  be  "  pamphlets  in  the 
Liberal  interest,"  and  such  like  things  duly  dated. 
"  Who  would  control  others  must  first  control  him- 
self," remarked  the  wall  over  the  wash-hand  stand, 
and  behind  the  door  against  the  Sunday  trousers 
was  a  portrait  of  Carlyle. 

These  were  no  mere  threats  against  the  universe  ; 
operations  had  begun.  Jostling  Shakespeare, 
Emerson's  Essays,  and  the  penny  Life  of  Con- 
fucius, there  were  battered  and  defaced  school 
books,  a  number  of  the  excellent  manuals  of  the 
Universal  Correspondence  Association,  exercise 
books,  ink  (red  and  black)  in  penny  bottles,  and  an 
india-rubber  stamp  with  Mr.  Lewisham's  name. 
A  trophy  of  bluish  green  South  Kensington  certif- 
icates for  geometrical  drawing,  astronomy,  physi- 
ology, physiography,  and  inorganic  chemistry, 
adorned  his  further  wall.  And  against  the  Carlyle 
portrait  was  a  manuscript  list  of  French  irregular 
verbs. 

Attached  by  a  drawing-pin  to  the  roof  over  the 
wash-hand  stand,  which — the  room  being  an  attic — 
sloped  almost  dangerously,  dangled  a  Time-Table, 
Mr.  Lewisham  was  to  rise  at  five,  and  that  this  was 
no  vain  boasting,  a  cheap  American  alarum  clock  by 
the  books    on  the  box  witnessed.     The   lumps  of 


4  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

mellow  chocolate  on  the  papered  ledge  by  the  bed- 
head, indorsed  that  evidence.  "  French  until  eight," 
said  the  time-table  curtly.  Breakfast  was  to  be  eaten 
in  twenty  minutes  ;  then  twenty-five  minutes  of  "lit- 
erature "  to  be  precise,  learning  extracts  (preferably 
pompous)  from  the  plays  of  William  Shakespeare — 
and  then  to  school  and  duty.  The  time-table  further 
prescribed  Latin  Composition  for  the  recess  and  the 
dinner  hour,  ("literature,"  however,  during  the  meal), 
and  varied  its  injunctions  for  the  rest  of  the  twenty- 
four  hours  according  to  the  day  of  the  week.  Not 
a  moment  for  Satan  and  that  "  mischief  still  "  of  his. 
Only  three-score  and  ten  has  the  confidence,  as 
well  as  the  time,  to  be  idle. 

But  just  think  of  the  admirable  quality  of  such  a 
scheme !  Up  and  busy  at  five,  with  all  the  world 
about  one  horizontal,  warm,  dreamy-brained  or  stu- 
pidly hullish,  if  roused,  roused  only  to  grunt  and 
sigh  and  roll  over  again  into  oblivion.  By  eight 
three  hours'  clear  start,  three  hours'  knowledge 
ahead  of  everyone.  It  takes,  I  have  been  told  by 
an  eminent  scholar,  about  a  thousand  hours  of  sin- 
cere work  to  learn  a  language  completely — after 
three  or  four  languages  much  less — which  gives  you, 
even  at  the  outset,  one  each  a  year  before  break- 
fast. The  gift  of  tongues — picked  up  like  mush- 
rooms !  Then  that  "  literature " — an  astonishing 
conception  !     In  the  afternoon  mathematics  and  the 


INTRODUCES  MR.  LEWISHAM.  5 

sciences.  Could  anything  be  simpler  or  more  mag- 
nificent ?  In  six  years  Mr.  Lewisham  will  have  his 
five  or  six  languages,  a  sound,  all-round  education, 
a  habit  of  tremendous  industry,  and  be  still  but  four 
and  twenty.  He  will  already  have  honour  in  his 
university  and  ampler  means.  One  realises  that 
those  pamphlets  in  the  Liberal  interests  will  be  no 
obscure  platitudes.  Where  Mr.  Lewisham  will  be 
at  thirty  stirs  the  imagination.  There  will  be  mod- 
ifications of  the  Schema,  of  course,  as  experience 
widens.  But  the  spirit  of  it — the  spirit  of  it  is  a 
devouring  flame ! 

He  was  sitting  facing  the  diamond-framed  win- 
dow, writing,  writing  fast,  on  a  second  yellow 
box  that  was  turned  on  end  and  empty,  and  the 
lid  was  open,  and  his  knees  were  conveniently 
stuck  into  the  cavity.  The  bed  was  strewn 
with  books  and  copygraphed  sheets  of  instruc- 
tions from  his  remote  correspondence  tutors. 
Pursuant  to  the  dangling  time-table  he  was, 
you  would  have  noticed,  translating  Latin  into 
English. 

Imperceptibly  the  speed  of  his  writing  diminished. 
"  Urit  vie  Glycerce  nitor "  lay  ahead  and  troubled 
him.  "  Urit  me,"  he  murmured,  and  his  eyes  trav- 
elled from  his  book  out  of  window  to  the  vicar's 
roof  opposite  and  its  ivied  chimneys.  His  brows 
were  knit  at  first  and   then    relaxed.     "  Urit  vie  !  " 


6  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM  . 

He  had  put  his  pen  into  his  mouth  and  glanced 
about  for  his  dictionary.     Urare  ? 

Suddenly  his  expression  changed.  Movement 
dictionary-ward  ceased.  He  was  listening  to  a  light 
tapping  sound — it  was  a  footfall — outside. 

He  stood  up  abruptly,  and,  stretching  his  neck, 
peered  through  his  unnecessary  glasses  and  the  dia- 
mond panes  down  into  the  street.  Looking  acutely 
downward  he  could  see  a  hat  daintily  trimmed  with 
pinkish  white  blossom,  the  shoulder  of  a  jacket,  and 
just  the  tips  of  nose  and  chin.  Certainly  the  stranger 
who  sat  under  the  gallery  last  Sunday  next  the 
Frobishers.  Then,  too,  he  had  seen  her  only 
obliquely.  .  .  . 

He  watched  her  until  she  passed  beyond  the  win- 
dow frame.  He  strained  to  see  impossibly  round 
the  corner.  .  .  . 

Then  he  started,  frowned,  took  his  pen  from 
his  mouth.  "  This  wandering  attention  !  "  he  said. 
"  The  slightest  thing  !  Where  was  I  ?  Tcha  ! " 
He  made  a  noise  with  his  teeth  to  express  his  irrita- 
tion, sat  down,  and  replaced  his  knees  in  the  up- 
turned box.  "  Urit  me,"  he  said,  biting  the  end  of 
his  pen  and  looking  for  his  dictionary. 

It  was  a  Wednesday  half-holiday  late  in  March, 
a  spring  day  glorious  in  amber  light,  dazzling  white 
clouds  and  the  intensest  blue,  casting  a  powder  of 
wonderful  green  hither  and  thither  among  the  trees 


INTRODUCES  MR.  LEWISHAM  7 

and  rousing  all  the  birds  to  tumultuous  rejoicings, 
a  rousing  day,  a  clamatory  insistent  day,  a  veritable 
herald  of  summer.  The  stir  of  that  anticipation 
was  in  the  air,  the  warm  earth  was  parting  above  the 
swelling  seeds,  and  all  the  pine-woods  were  full  of 
the  minute  crepitation  of  opening  bud  scales.  And 
not  only  was  the  stir  of  Mother  Nature's  awakening 
in  the  earth  and  the  air  and  the  trees,  but  also  in 
Mr.  Lewisham's  youthful  blood,  bidding  him  rouse 
himself  to  live — live  in  a  sense  quite  other  than  that 
the  Schema  indicated. 

He  saw  the  dictionary  peeping  from  under  a  paper, 
looked  up  "  Urit  me,"  appreciated  the  shining 
"  nitor  "  of  Glycera's  shoulders,  and  so  fell  idle  again 
to  rouse  himself  abruptly. 

"  I  can't  fix  my  attention,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham. 
He  took  off  the  needless  glasses,  wiped  them,  and 
blinked  his  eyes.  This  confounded  Horace  and  his 
stimulating  epithets  !     A  walk? 

"  I  won't  be  beat,"  he  said — incorrectly — replaced 
his  glasses,  brought  his  elbows  down  on  either  side 
of  his  box  with  resonant  violence,  and  clutched  the 
hair  over  his  ears  with  both  hands.  .  .  . 

In  five  minutes'  time  he  found  himself  watching? 
the  swallows  curving  through  the  blue  over  the 
vicarage  garden. 

"  Did  ever  man  have  such  a  bother  with  himself 
as  me?"  he  asked  vaguely  but  vehemently.     "  It's 


8  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

self-indulgence  does  it—  sitting  down's  the  beginning 
of  laziness." 

So  he  stood  up  to  his  work,  and  came  into  perma- 
nent view  of  the  village  street.  "  If  she  has  gone 
round  the  corner  by  the  post  office,  she  will  come 
in  sight  over  the  palings  above  the  allotments,"  sug- 
gested the  unexplored  and  undisciplined  region  of 
Mr.  Lewisham's  mind.  .  .  . 

She  did  not  come  into  sight.  Apparently  she 
had  not  gone  round  by  the  post  office  after  all.  It 
made  one  wonder  where  she  had  gone.  Did  she  go 
up  through  the  town  to  the  avenue  on  these 
occasions  ?  .  .  .  Then  abruptly  a  cloud  drove  across 
the  sunlight,  the  glowing  street  went  cold  and  Mr. 
Lewisham's  imagination  submitted  to  control.  So 
"  Mater  saeva  cupidinum"  "  The  untameable  mother 
of  desires," — Horace  (Book  II.  of  the  Odes)  was  the 
author  appointed  by  the  university  for  Mr.  Lewis- 
ham's matriculation — was,  after  all,  translated  to  its 
prophetic  end. 

Precisely  as  the  church  clock  struck  five  Mr. 
Lewisham,  with  a  punctuality  that  was  indeed 
almost  too  prompt  for  a  really  earnest  student,  shut 
his  Horace,  took  up  his  Shakespeare,  and  descended 
the  narrow,  curved,  uncarpeted  staircase  that  led 
from  his  garret  to  the  living  room  in  which  he  had 
his  tea  with  his  landlady,  Mrs.  Munday.  That  good 
lady  was  alone,  and  after  a  few  civilities  Mr.  Lewis- 


INTRODUCES  MR.  LEWISHAM  9 

ham  opened  his  Shakespeare  and  read  from  a  mark 
onward — that  mark,  by-the-bye,  was  in  the  middle 
of  a  scene — while  he  consumed  mechanically  a 
number  of  slices  of  bread  and  whort  jam. 

Mrs.  Munday  watched  him  over  her  spectacles  and 
thought  how  bad  so  much  reading  must  be  for  the 
eyes,  until  the  tinkling  of  her  shop-bell  called  her 
away  to  a  customer.  At  twenty-five  minutes  to  six 
he  put  the  book  back  in  the  window-sill,  dashed  a  few 
crumbs  from  his  jacket,  assumed  a  mortar-board  cap 
that  was  lying  on  the  tea-caddy,  and  went  forth  to 
his  evening  "  preparation  duty." 

The  West  Street  was  empty  and  shining  golden 
with  the  sunset.  Its  beauty  seized  upon  him,  and 
he  forgot  to  repeat  the  passage  from  Henry  VIII. 
that  should  have  occupied  him  down  the  street. 
Instead  he  was  presently  thinking  of  that  insubor- 
dinate glance  from  his  window  and  of  little  chins 
and  nose-tips.  His  eyes  became  remote  in  their 
expression.  .  .  . 

The  school  door  was  opened  by  an  obsequious 
little  boy  with  "  lines"  to  be  examined. 

Mr.  Lewisham  felt  a  curious  change  of  atmos- 
phere on  his  entry.  The  door  slammed  behind  him. 
The  hall  with  its  insistent  scholastic  suggestions, 
its  yellow  marbled  paper,  its  long  rows  of 
hat-pegs,  its  disreputable  array  of  umbrellas,  a 
broken  mortar-board  and  a  tattered   and   scattered 


10  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Principia,  seemed  dim  and  dull  in  contrast  with  the 
luminous  stir  of  the  early  March  evening  outside. 
An  unusual  sense  of  the  greyness  of  a  teacher's  life, 
of  the  greyness  indeed  of  the  life  of  all  studious 
souls,  came  and  went  in  his  mind.  He  took  the 
"  lines,"  written  painfully  over  three  pages  of  exer- 
cise book,  and  obliterated  them  with  a  huge  G.  E. 
L.,  scrawled  monstrously  across  each  page.  He 
heard  the  familiar  mingled  noises  of  the  playground 
drifting  in  to  him  through  the  open  schoolroom 
door. 


CHAPTER   II 

"  AS  THE  WIND  BLOWS  " 

A  FLAW  in  that  pentagram  of  a  time-table,  that 
pentagram  by  which  the  demons  of  distraction  were 
to  be  excluded  from  Mr.  Lewisham's  career  to 
Greatness,  was  the  absence  of  a  clause  forbidding 
study  out  of  doors.  It  was  the  day  after  the  trivial 
window  peeping  of  the  last  chapter  that  this  gap  in 
the  time-table  became  apparent,  a  day  if  possible 
more  gracious  and  alluring  than  its  predecessor,  and 
at  half-past  twelve,  instead  of  returning  from  the 
school  directly  to  his  lodging,  Mr.  Lewisham 
escaped  through  the  omission  and  made  his  way — 
Horace  in  pocket — to  the  park  gates  and  so  to  the 
avenue  of  ancient  trees  that  encircles  the  broad 
Whortley  domain.  He  dismissed  a  suspicion  of  his 
motive  with  perfect  success.  In  the  avenue — for 
the  path  is  but  little  frequented — one  might  expect 
to  read  undisturbed.  The  open  air,  the  erect  atti- 
tude, are  surely  better  than  sitting  in  a  stuffy,  ener- 
vating bedroom.     The  open  air  is  distinctly  healthy, 

hardy,  simple.  .  .  . 

ii 


12  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

The  day  was  breezy,  and  there  was  a  perpetual 
rustling,  a  going   and   coming  in  the  budding  trees. 

The  network  of  the  beeches  was  full  of  golden 
sunlight,  and  all  the  lower  branches  were  shot  with 
horizontal  dashes  of  new-born  green. 

"  Tu,  nisi  ventis 
Debes  ludibrium,  cave" 

was  the  appropriate  matter  of  Mr.  Lewisham's 
thoughts,  and  he  was  mechanically  trying  to 
keep  the  book  open  in  three  places  at  once,  at  the 
text,  the  notes,  and  the  literal  translation,  while  he 
turned  up  the  vocabulary  for  ludibriutn,  when  his 
attention,  wandering  dangerously  near  the  top  of 
the  page,  fell  over  the  edge  and  escaped  with  in- 
credible swiftness  down  the  avenue.  .  .  . 

A  girl  wearing  a  straw  hat  adorned  with  white 
blossom,  was  advancing  towards  him.  Her  occupa- 
tion, too,  was  literary.  Indeed,  she  was  so  busy 
writing  that  evidently  she  did  not  perceive  him : 

Unreasonable  emotions  descended  upon  Mr. 
Lewisham — emotions  that  are  unaccountable  on  the 
mere  hypothesis  of  a  casual  meeting.  Something 
was  whispered ;  it  sounded  suspiciously  like  "  It's 
her!"  He  advanced  with  his  fingers  in  his  book, 
ready  to  retreat  to  its  pages  if  she  looked  up,  and 
watched  her  over  it.  Ludibrium  passed  out  of  his 
universe.     She  was  clearly  unaware  of  his  nearness, 


"AS  THE  WIND  BLOWS"  13 

he  thought,  intent  upon  her  writing,  whatever  that 
might  be.  He  wondered  what  it  might  be.  Her 
face,  foreshortened  by  her  downward  regard,  seemed 
infantile.  Her  fluttering  skirt  was  short,  and  showed 
her  shoes  and  ankles.  He  noted  her  graceful,  easy 
steps.  A  figure  of  health  and  lightness  it  was,  sun- 
lit, and  advancing  towards  him,  something,  as  he 
afterwards  recalled  with  a  certain  astonishment, 
quite  outside  the  Schema. 

Nearer  she  came  and  nearer,  her  eyes  still  down- 
cast. He  was  full  of  vague,  stupid  promptings  to- 
wards an  uncalled-for  intercourse.  It  was  curious 
she  did  not  see  him.  He  began  to  expect  almost 
painfully  the  moment  when  she  would  look  up, 
though  what  there  was  to  expect — !  He  thought 
of  what  she  would  see  when  she  discovered  him,  and 
wondered  where  the  tassel  of  his  cap  might  be  hang- 
ing— it  sometimes  occluded  one  eye.  It  was  of 
course  quite  impossible  to  put  up  a  hand  and  inves- 
tigate. He  was  near  trembling  with  excitement. 
His  paces,  acts  which  are  usually  automatic,  became 
uncertain  and  difficult.  One  might  have  thought 
he  had  never  passed  a  human  being  before.  Still 
nearer,  ten  yards  now,  nine,  eight.  Would  she  go 
past  without  looking  up  ?  .  .  . 

Then  their  eyes  met. 

She  had  hazel  eyes,  but  Mr.  Lewisham  being 
quite  an   amateur   about  eyes,  could  find  no  words 


14  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

for  them.  She  looked  demurely  into  his  face.  She 
seemed  to  find  nothing  there.  She  glanced  away 
from  him  among  the  trees,  and  passed,  and  nothing 
remained  in  front  of  him  but  an  empty  avenue,  a 
sunlit,  green-shot  void. 

The  incident  was  over. 

From  far  away  the  soughing  of  the  breeze  swept 
towards  him,  and  in  a  moment  all  the  twigs  about 
him  were  quivering  and  rustling  and  the  boughs 
creaking  with  a  gust  of  wind.  It  seemed  to  urge 
him  away  from  her.  The  faded  dead  leaves  that 
had  once  been  green  and  young  sprang  up,  raced 
one  another,  leapt,  danced  and  pirouetted,  and  then 
something  large  struck  him  on  the  neck,  stayed  for 
a  startling  moment,  and  drove  past  him  up  the 
avenue. 

Something  vividly  white  !  A  sheet  of  paper — the 
sheet  upon  which  she  had  been  writing ! 

For  what  seemed  a  long  time  he  did  not  grasp  the 
situation.  He  glanced  over  his  shoulder  and  under- 
stood suddenly.  His  awkwardness  vanished.  Hor- 
ace in  hand,  he  gave  chase,  and  in  ten  paces  had 
secured  the  fugitive  document.  He  turned  towards 
her,  flushed  with  triumph,  the  quarry  in  his  hand. 
He  had  as  he  picked  it  up  seen  what  was  written, 
but  the  situation  dominated  him  for  the  instant. 
He  made  a  stride  towards  her,  and  only  then  under- 
stood  what   he   had   seen.     Lines   of    a  measured 


"AS  THE  WIND  BLOWS"  15 

length  and  capitals !  Could  it  really  be — ?  He 
stopped.  He  looked  again,  eyebrows  rising.  He 
held  it  before  him,  staring  now  quite  frankly.  It 
had  been  written  with  a  stylographic  pen.  Thus  it 
ran : 

"  Come !     Sharp's  the  word'' 

And  then  again, 

"  Come  !     Sharp's  the  word** 

And  then, 

"  Come  !     Sharp's  the  word** 

"  Come  !     Sharp's  the  word," 

And  so  on  all  down  the  page,  in  a  boyish  hand 
uncommonly  like  Frobisher  ii.'s. 

Surely  !  "  I  say  !  "  said  Mr.  Lewisham,  struggling 
with  the  new  aspect  and  forgetting  all  his  manners 
in  his  surprise.  .  .  .  He  remembered  giving  the  im- 
position quite  well : — Frobisher  ii.  had  repeated  the 
exhortation  just  a  little  too  loudly — had  brought  the 
thing  upon  himself.  To  find  her  doing  this  jarred 
oddly  upon  certain  vague  preconceptions  he  had 
formed  of  her.  Somehow  it  seemed  as  if  she  had 
betrayed  him.  That  of  course  was  only  for  the 
instant. 

She  had  come  up  with  him  now.  "  May  I  have 
my  sheet  of  paper,  please  ?  M  she  said  with  a  catch- 
ing of  her  breath.  She  was  a  couple  of  inches  less 
in  height  than  he.  Do  you  observe  her  half-open 
lips,  said  Mother  Nature  in  a  noiseless  aside  to  Mr. 


i6  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Lewisham — a  thing  he  afterwards  recalled.  In  her 
eyes  was  a  touch  of  apprehension. 

"  I  say,"  he  said,  with  protest  still  uppermost, 
"You  oughtn't  to  do  this." 

"  Do  what  ?  " 

"  This.     Impositions.     For  my  boys." 

She  raised  her  eyebrows,  then  knitted  them  mo- 
mentarily, and  looked  at  him.  "  Are  you  Mr.  Lew- 
isham ? "  she  asked  with  an  affectation  of  entire 
ignorance  and  discovery. 

She  knew  him  perfectly  well,  which  was  one  rea- 
son why  she  was  writing  the  imposition,  but  pretend- 
ing not  to  know  gave  her  something  to  say. 

Mr.  Lewisham  nodded. 

"  Of  all  people  !  Then  " — frankly — "  you  have 
just  found  me  out." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have,"  said  Lewisham.  "  I  am 
afraid  I  have  found  you  out." 

They  looked  at  one  another  for  the  next  move. 
She  decided  to  plead  in  extenuation. 

"  Teddy  Frobisher  is  my  cousin.  I  know  it's 
very  wrong,  but  he  seemed  to  have  such  a  lot  to  do 
and  to  be  in  such  trouble.  And  I  had  nothing  to 
do.     In  fact,  it  was  /who  offered.  ..." 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  him.  She  seemed  to 
consider  her  remark  complete. 

That  meeting  of  the  eyes  had  an  oddly  discon- 
certing quality.     He  tried  to  keep  to  the  business 


"AS  THE  WIND  BLOWS"  17 

of  the  imposition.  "  You  ought  not  to  have  dorke 
that,"  he  said,  encountering  her  steadfastly. 

She  looked  down  and  then  into  his  face  again. 
"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to.  I'm 
very  sorry." 

Her  looking  down  and  up  again  produced  another 
unreasonable  effect.  It  seemed  to  Lewisham  that 
they  were  discussing  something  quite  other  than 
the  topic  of  their  conversation  ;  a  persuasion  pat- 
ently absurd  and  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  the 
general  disorder  of  his  faculties.  He  made  a  serious 
attempt  to  keep  his  footing  of  reproof. 

"  I  should  have  detected  the  writing,  you  know." 

"  Of  course  you  would.  It  was  very  wrong  of  me 
to  persuade  him.  But  I  did — I  assure  you.  He 
seemed  in  such  trouble.     And  I  thought — " 

She  made  another  break,  and  there  was  a  faint 
deepening  of  colour  in  her  cheeks.  Suddenly,  stu- 
pidly, his  own  adolescent  cheeks  began  to  glow.  It 
became  necessary  to  banish  that  sense  of  a  duplicate 
topic  forthwith. 

"  I  can  assure  you,"  he  said,  now  very  earnestly, 
11 1  never  give  a  punishment,  never,  unless  it  is  mer- 
ited. I  make  that  a  rule.  I — er — always  make  that 
a  rule.     I  am  very  careful  indeed." 

"  I  am  really  sorry,"  she  interrupted  with  frank 
contrition.     "  It  zuas  silly  of  me." 

Lewisham    felt    unaccountably  sorry  she    should 


18  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

have  to  apologise,  and  he  spoke  at  once  with  the 
idea  of  checking  the  reddening  of  his  face.  "  I 
don't  think  that"  he  said  with  a  sort  of  belated  alac- 
rity. "  Really,  it  was  kind  of  you,  you  know — 
very  kind  of  you  indeed.  And  I  know  that — I  can 
quite  understand  that — er — your  kindness.  .  .  ." 

"  Ran  away  with  me.  And  now  poor  little  Teddy 
will  get  into  worse  trouble  for  letting  me.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham,  perceiving  an  op- 
portunity and  trying  not  to  smile  his  appreciation 
of  what  he  was  saying.  "  I  had  no  business  to  read 
this  as  I  picked  it  up — absolutely  no  business. 
Consequently.  .  .  ." 

"  You  won't  take  any  notice  of  it  ?     Really  !  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham. 

Her  face  lit  with  a  smile,  and  Mr.  Lewisham's  re- 
laxed in  sympathy.  "  It  is  nothing — it's  the  proper 
thing  for  me  to  do,  you  know." 

"  But  so  many  people  wouldn't  do  it.  School- 
masters are  not  usually  so — chivalrous." 

He  was  chivalrous  !  The  phrase  acted  like  a  spur. 
He  obeyed  a  foolish  impulse. 

"  If  you  like — "  he  said. 

"What?" 

"  He  needn't  do  this.  The  Impot.,  I  mean.  I'll 
let  him  off." 

"  Really  ?  " 

"  I  can." 


-AS  THE  WIND  BLOWS"  19 

"  It's  awfully  kind  of  you." 

"  I  don't  mind,"  he  said.  "  It's  nothing  much.  If 
you  really  think.  .  .  ." 

He  was  full  of  self-applause  for  this  scandalous 
sacrifice  of  justice. 

"  It's  awfully  kind  of  you,"  she  said. 

"  It's  nothing,  really,"  he  explained,  "  nothing." 

"  Most  people  wouldn't — " 

"  I  know." 

Pause. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  said.     "  Really." 

He  would  have  given  worlds  for  something  more  to 
say,  something  witty  and  original,  but  nothing  came. 

The  pause  lengthened.  She  glanced  over  hef 
shoulder  down  the  vacant  avenue.  This  interview 
— this  momentous  series  of  things  unsaid  was  com- 
ing to  an  end  !  She  looked  at  him  hesitatingly  and 
smiled  again.  She  held  out  her  hand.  No  doubt 
that  was  the  proper  thing  to  do.  He  took  it, 
searching  a  void,  tumultuous  mind  in  vain. 

"  It's  awfully  kind  of  you,"  she  said  again  as  she 
did  so. 

"  It  don't  matter  a  bit,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham,  and 
sought  vainly  for  some  other  saying,  some  doorway 
remark  into  new  topics.  Her  hand  was  cool  and 
soft  and  firm,  the  most  delightful  thing  to  grasp, 
and  this  observation  ousted  all  other  things.  He 
held  it  for  a  moment,  but  nothing  would  come. 


20  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

They  discovered  themselves  hand  in  hand.  They 
both  laughed  and  felt  "  silly."  They  shook  hands  in 
the  manner  of  quite  intimate  friends,  and  snatched 
their  hands  away  awkwardly.  She  turned,  glanced 
timidly  at  him  over  her  shoulder,  and  hesitated. 
"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  and  was  suddenly  walking 
from  him. 

He  bowed  to  her  receding  back,  made  a  seven- 
teenth-century sweep  with  his  college  cap,  and  then 
some  hitherto  unexplored  regions  of  his  mind 
flashed  into  revolt. 

Hardly  had  she  gone  six  paces  when  he  was  at 
her  side  again. 

"  I  say,"  he  said  with  a  fearful  sense  of  his  temer- 
ity and  raising  his  mortar-board  awkwardly  as 
though  he  was  passing  a  funeral.  u  But  that  sheet 
of  paper  ..." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  surprised — quite  naturally. 

"  May  I  have  it  ?  " 

"Why?" 

He  felt  a  breathless  pleasure,  like  that  of 
sliding  down  a  slope  of  snow.  "  I  would  like  to 
have  it." 

She  smiled  and  raised  her  eyebrows,  but  his  ex- 
citement was  now  too  great  for  smiling.  "  Look 
here  !  "  she  said,  and  displayed  the  sheet  crumpled 
into  a  ball.     She  laughed — with  a  touch  of  effort. 

"  I  don't  mind  that,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham  laughing 


"AS  THE  WIND  BLOWS"  21 

too.  He  captured  the  paper  by  an  insistent  gesture 
and  smoothed  it  out  with  fingers  that  trembled. 

"  You  don't  mind  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Mind  what  ?  " 

"If  I  keep  it?" 

"Why  should  I?" 

Pause.  Their  eyes  met  again.  There  was  an 
odd  constraint  about  both  of  them,  a  palpitating 
interval  of  silence. 

"  I  really  must  be  going,"  she  said  suddenly, 
breaking  the  spell  by  an  effort.  She  turned  about 
and  left  him  with  the  crumpled  piece  of  paper  in 
the  fist  that  held  the  book,  the  other  hand  lifting 
the  mortar-board  in  a  dignified  salute  again. 

He  watched  her  receding  figure.  His  heart  was 
beating  with  remarkable  rapidity.  How  light,  how 
living  she  seemed  !  Little  round  flakes  of  sunlight 
raced  down  her  as  she  went.  She  walked  fast,  then 
slowly,  looking  sideways  once  or  twice  but  not  back, 
until  she  reached  the  park  gates.  Then  she  looked 
towards  him,  a  remote,  friendly  little  figure,  made  a 
gesture  of  farewell,  and  disappeared. 

His  face  was  flushed  and  his  eyes  bright.  Curi- 
ously enough,  he  was  out  of  breath.  He  stared  for 
a  long  time  at  the  vacant  end  of  the  avenue.  Then 
he  turned  his  eyes  to  his  trophy  gripped  against 
the  closed  and  forgotten  Horace  in  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  WONDERFUL  DISCOVERY 

On  Sunday  it  was  LewishanVs  duty  to  accom- 
pany the  boarders  twice  to  church.  The  boys  sat 
in  the  gallery  above  the  choir,  facing  the  organ  loft 
and  at  right  angles  to  the  general  congregation. 
It  was  a  prominent  position,  and  made  him  feel  pain- 
fully conspicuous,  except  in  moods  of  exceptional 
vanity,  when  he  used  to  imagine  that  all  these  peo- 
ple were  thinking  how  his  forehead  and  his  certif- 
icates accorded.  He  thought  a  lot  in  those  days  of 
his  certificates  and  forehead,  but  little  of  his  honest, 
healthy  face  beneath  it.  (To  tell  the  truth  there 
was  nothing  very  wonderful  about  his  forehead.) 
He  rarely  looked  down  the  church,  as  he  fancied  to 
do  so  would  be  to  meet  the  collective  eye  of  the 
congregation  regarding  him.  So  that  in  the  morning 
he  was  not  able  to  see  that  the  Frobishers'  pew 
was  empty  until  the  litany. 

But  in  the  evening,  on  the  way  to  church,  the 
Frobishers  and  their  guest  crossed  the  market- 
square   as  his   string  of  boys  marched  along  the 

22 


THE  WONDERFUL  DISCOVERY        23 

west  side.  And  the  guest  was  arrayed  in  a  gay 
new  dress,  as  if  it  was  already  Easter,  and  her  face 
set  in  its  dark  hair  came  with  a  strange  effect  of 
mingled  freshness  and  familiarity.  She  looked  at 
him  calmly  !  He  felt  very  awkward  and  was  for 
cutting  his  new  acquaintance.  Then  hesitated,  and 
raised  his  hat  with  a  jerk  as  if  to  Mrs.  Frobisher. 
Neither  lady  acknowledged  his  salute,  which  may 
possibly  have  been  a  little  unexpected.  Then  young 
Siddons  dropped  his  hymn-book,  stooped  to  pick  it 
up,  and  Lewisham  almost  fell  over  him.  .  .  .  He 
entered  church  in  a  mood  of  black  despair. 

But  consolation  of  a  sort  came  soon  enough.  As 
she  took  her  seat  she  distinctly  glanced  up  at  the 
gallery,  and  afterwards  as  he  knelt  to  pray,  he 
peeped  between  his  fingers  and  saw  her  looking  up 
again.     She  was  certainly  not  laughing  at  him. 

In  those  days  much  of  Lewisham'smind  was  still 
an  unknown  land  to  him.  He  believed  among 
other  things  that  he  was  always  the  same  consistent 
intelligent  human  being,  whereas  under  certain  stim- 
uli he  became  no  longer  reasonable  and  disciplined 
but  a  purely  imaginative  and  emotional  person. 
Music,  for  instance,  carried  him  away,  and  partic- 
ularly the  effect  of  many  voices  in  unison  whirled 
him  off  from  almost  any  state  of  mind  to  a  fine 
massive  emotionality.  And  the  evening  service  at 
Whortley  church — at  the  evening  service  surplices 


24  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM. 

were  worn — the  chanting  and  singing,  the  vague 
brilliance  of  the  numerous  candle  flames,  the  multi- 
tudinous unanimity  of  the  congregation  down  there, 
kneeling,  rising,  thunderously  responding  invariably 
inebriated  him.  Inspired  him,  if  you  will,  and  turned 
the  prose  of  his  life  into  poetry.  And  Chance, 
coming  to  the  aid  of  Dame  Nature,  dropped  just  the 
apt  suggestion  into  his  now  highly  responsive  ear. 
The  second  hymn  was  a  simple  and  popular 
one,  dealing  with  the  theme  of  Faith,  Hope  and 
Charity,  and  having  each  verse  ending  with  the 
word  "  Love."  Conceive  it,  long  drawn  out  and 
disarticulate, — 

Faith  will  van  .  .  .  ish  in  .  .  .  to  sight, 
Hope  be  emp  .  .  .  tied  in  deli  .  .  .  ight, 
Love  in  Heaven  will  shine  more  bri  .  .  ,  ight 
There  .  .  .  fore  give  us  Love. 

At  the  third  repetition  of  the  refrain,  Lewisham 
looked  down  across  the  chancel  and  met  her  eyes 
for  a  brief  instant.  .  .  . 

He  stopped  singing  abruptly.  Then  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  serried  ranks  of  faces  below  there, 
came  with  almost  overwhelming  force  upon  him, 
and  he  dared  not  look  at  her  again.  He  felt  the 
blood  rushing  to  his  face. 

Love  !  The  greatest  of  these.  The  greatest  of  all 
things.  Better  than  fame.  Better  than  knowledge. 
So  came  the  great  discovery  like  a  flood  across  his 


THE  WONDERFUL  DISCOVERY       25 

mind,  pouring  over  it  with  the  cadence  of  the  hymn 
and  sending  a  tide  of  pink  in  sympathy  across  his 
forehead.  The  rest  of  the  service  was  phantasma- 
gorial  background  to  that  great  reality — a  phantas- 
magorial  background  a  little  inclined  to  stare.  He, 
Mr.  Lewisham,  was  in  Love. 

"  A  .  .  .  men."  He  was  so  preoccupied  that  he 
found  the  whole  congregation  subsiding  into  their 
seats,  and  himself  still  standing,  rapt.  He  sat  down 
spasmodically,  with  an  impact  that  seemed  to  him 
to  re-echo  through  the  church. 

As  they  came  out  of  the  porch  into  the  thicken- 
ing night,  he  seemed  to  see  her  everywhere.  He 
fancied  she  had  gone  on  in  front,  and  he  hurried  up 
the  boys  in  the  hope  of  overtaking  her.  They 
pushed  through  the  throng  of  dim  people  going 
homeward.  Should  he  raise  his  hat  to  her  again  ? 
.  .  .  But  it  was  Susie  Hopbrow  in  a  light-coloured 
dress — a  raven  in  dove's  plumage.  He  felt  a  curious 
mixture  of  relief  and  disappointment.  He  would 
see  her  no  more  that  night. 

He  hurried  from  the  school  to  his  lodging.  He 
wanted  very  urgently  to  be  alone.  He  went  up- 
stairs to  his  little  room  and  sat  before  the  upturned 
box  on  which  his  Butler's  Analogy  was  spread  open. 
He  did  not  go  to  the  formality  of  lighting  the 
candle.  He  leant  back  and  gazed  blissfully  at  the 
solitary  planet  that  hung  over  the  vicarage  garden. 


26  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

He  took  out  of  his  pocket  a  crumpled  sheet  of 
paper,  smoothed  and  carefully  refolded,  covered 
with  a  writing  not  unlike  that  of  Frobisher  ii.,  and 
after  some  maidenly  hesitation  pressed  this  treasure 
to  his  lips.  The  Schema  and  the  time-table  hung 
in  the  darkness  like  the  mere  ghosts  of  themselves. 

Mrs.  Munday  called  him  thrice  to  his  supper. 

He  went  out  immediately  after  it  was  eaten  and 
wandered  under  the  stars  until  he  came  over  the 
hill  behind  the  town  again,  and  clambered  up  the 
back  to  the  stile  in  sight  of  the  Frobishers'  house. 
He  selected  the  only  lit  window  as  hers.  Behind 
the  blind,  Mrs.  Frobisher,  thirty-eight,  was  busy 
with  her  curl-papers — she  used  papers  because  they 
were  better  for  the  hair — and  discussing  certain 
neighbours  in  a  fragmentary  way  with  Mr.  Fro- 
bisher, who  was  in  bed.  Presently  she  moved  the 
candle  to  examine  a  faint  discolouration  of  her  com- 
plexion that  rendered  her  uneasy. 

Outside,  Mr.  Lewisham  (eighteen)  stood  watching 
the  orange  oblong  for  the  best  part  of  half  an  hour, 
until  it  vanished  and  left  the  house  black  and  blank. 
Then  he  sighed  deeply  and  returned  home  in  a  very 
glorious  mood  indeed. 

He  awoke  the  next  morning  feeling  extremely 
serious,  but  not  clearly  remembering  the  overnight 
occurrences.  His  eye  fell  on  his  clock.  The  time 
was  six  and  he  had  not  heard  the  alarum ;  as  a  mat* 


THE  WONDERFUL  DISCOVERY        27 

ter  of  fact  the  alarum  had  not  been  wound  up.  He 
jumped  out  of  bed  at  once  and  alighted  upon  his 
best  trousers  amorphously  dropped  on  the  floor 
instead  of  methodically  cast  over  a  chair.  As  he 
soaped  his  head  he  tried,  according  to  his  rules  of 
revision,  to  remember  the  overnight  reading.  He 
could  not  for  the  life  of  him.  The  truth  came  to 
him  as  he  was  getting  into  his  shirt.  His  head, 
struggling  in  its  recesses,  became  motionless,  the 
handless  cuffs  ceased   to  dangle  for  a  minute.  .  .  . 

Then  his  head  came  through  slowly  with  a  sur- 
prised expression  upon  his  face.  He  remembered. 
He  remembered  the  thing  as  a  bald  discovery,  and 
without  a  touch  of  emotion.  With  all  the  achro- 
matic clearness,  the  unromantic  colourlessness  of 
the  early  morning.  .  .  . 

Yes.  He  had  it  now  quite  distinctly.  There  had 
been  no  overnight  reading.     He  was  in  Love. 

The  proposition  jarred  with  some  vague  thing  in 
his  mind.  He  stood  staring  for  a  space,  and  then 
began  looking  about  absent-mindedly  for  his  collar- 
stud.  He  paused  in  front  of  his  Schema,  regard- 
ing it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

RAISED   EYEBROWS 

"  WORK  must  be  done  anyhow,"  said  Mr.  Lewis- 
ham. 

But  never  had  the  extraordinary  advantages  of 
open-air  study  presented  themselves  so  vividly.  Be- 
fore breakfast  he  took  half  an  hour  of  open-air  read- 
ing along  the  allotments  lane  near  the  Frobishers' 
house,  after  breakfast  and  before  school  he  went 
through  the  avenue  with  a  book,  and  returned  from 
school  to  his  lodgings  circuitously  through  the 
avenue,  and  so  back  to  the  avenue  for  thirty  minutes 
or  so  before  afternoon  school.  When  Mr.  Lewis- 
ham  was  not  looking  over  the  top  of  his  book 
during  these  periods  of  open-air  study,  then  com- 
monly he  was  glancing  over  his  shoulder.  And  at 
last  who  should  he  see  but —  ! 

He  saw  her  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  and  he 
turned  away  at  once,  pretending  not  to  have  seen 
her.  His  whole  being  was  suddenly  irradiated  with 
emotion.  The  hands  holding  his  book  gripped  it 
very  tightly.     He  did  not  glance  back  again,  but 

28 


RAISED  EYEBROWS  29 

walked  slowly  and  steadfastly,  reading  an  ode  that 
he  could  not  have  translated  to  save  his  life,  and 
listening  acutely  for  her  approach.  And  after  an 
interminable  time,  as  it  seemed,  came  a  faint  foot- 
fall and  the  swish  of  skirts  behind  him. 

He  felt  as  though  his  head  was  directed  forward 
by  a  clutch  of  iron. 

"  Mr.  Lewisham,"  she  said  close  to  him,  and  he 
turned  with  a  quality  of  movement  that  was  almost 
convulsive.     He  raised  his  cap  clumsily. 

He  took  her  extended  hand  by  an  afterthought, 
and  held  it  until  she  withdrew  it.  "  I  am  so  glad 
to  have  met  you,"  she  said. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Lewisham  simply. 

They  stood  facing  one  another  for  an  expressive 
moment,  and  then  by  a  movement  she  indicated 
her  intention  to  walk  along  the  avenue  with  him. 
"  I  wanted  so  much,"  she  said  looking  down  at  her 
feet,  "  to  thank  you  for  letting  Teddy  off,  you 
know.  That  is  why  I  wanted  to  see  you."  Lewis- 
ham took  his  first  step  beside  her.  "  And  it's  odd, 
isn't  it,"  she  said  looking  up  into  his  face,  "  that  I 
should  meet  you  here  in  just  the  same  place.  I  be- 
lieve .  .  .  Yes.  The  very  same  place  we  met  be- 
fore." 

Mr.  Lewisham  was  tongue-tied. 

"  Do  you  often  come  here,"  she  said. 

"  Well,"  he  considered — and  his  voice  was  most 


30  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

unreasonably  hoarse    when   he  spoke — "  No.     No. 

.  .  .     That  is At  least  not  often.     Now  and 

then.  In  fact  I  like  it  rather  for  reading  and  that 
sort  of  thing.     It's  so  quiet." 

"  I  suppose  you  read  a  great  deal?" 

"  When  one  teaches  one  has  to." 

"  But  you  .  .  .  " 

"  I'm   rather    fond   of    reading,  certainly.      Are 

?»» 

"  I  love  it." 

Mr.  Lewisham  was  glad  she  loved  reading.  He 
would  have  been  disappointed  had  she  answered 
differently.  But  she  spoke  with  real  fervour.  She 
loved  reading !  It  was  pleasant.  She  would  un- 
derstand him  a  little  perhaps.  "  Of  course,"  she  went 
on,  "  I'm  not  clever  like  some  people  are.  And  I 
have  to  read  books  as  I  get  hold  of  them." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham,  "  for  the  matter 
of  that.  .  .  .     Have  you  read  .  .  .  Carlyle  ?  " 

The  conversation  was  now  fairly  under  way. 
They  were  walking  side  by  side  beneath  the  sway- 
ing boughs.  Mr.  Lewisham's  sensations  were 
ecstatic,  marred  only  by  a  dread  of  some  casual 
boy  coming  upon  them.  She  had  not  read  much 
Carlyle.  She  had  always  wanted  to,  even  from 
quite  a  little  girl — she  had  heard  so  much  about 
him.  She  knew  he  was  a  Really  Great  Writer,  a 
very  Great  Writer  indeed.     All  she  had  read  of  him 


RAISED  EYEBROWS  31 

she  liked.  She  could  say  that.  As  much  as  she 
liked  anything.  And  she  had  seen  his  house  in 
Chelsea. 

Lewisham,  whose  knowledge  of  London  had  been 
obtained  by  excursion  trips  on  six  or  seven  isolated 
days,  was  much  impressed  by  this.  It  seemed  to  put 
her  at  once  on  a  footing  of  intimacy  with  this  impos- 
ing Personality.  It  had  never  occurred  to  him  at  all 
vividly  that  these  Great  Writers  had  real  abiding 
places.  She  gave  him  a  few  descriptive  touches 
that  made  the  house  suddenly  real  and  distinctive 
to  him.  She  lived  quite  near,  she  said,  at  least 
within  walking  distance,  in  Clapham.  He  instantly 
forgot  the  vague  design  of  lending  her  his  "  Sartor 
Resartus  "  in  his  curiosity  to  learn  more  about  her 
home.  "  Clapham — that's  almost  in  London,  isn't 
it  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Quite,"  she  said,  but  she  volunteered  no  further 
information  about  her  domestic  circumstances.  "  I 
like  London,"  she  generalised,  "  and  especially  in 
winter."  And  she  proceeded  to  praise  London, 
its  public  libraries,  its  shops,  the  multitudes  of 
people,  the  facilities  for  "  doing  what  you  like,"  the 
concerts  one  could  go  to,  the  theatres.  (It  seemed 
she  moved  in  fairly  good  society.)  "  There's  always 
something  to  see  even  if  you  only  go  out  for  a  walk," 
she  said,  "  and  down  here  there's  nothing  to  read 
but  idle  novels.     And  those  not  new," 


32  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Mr.  Lewisham  had  regretfully  to  admit  the  lack 
of  such  culture  and  mental  activity  in  Whortley. 
It  made  him  feel  terribly  her  inferior.  He  had  only 
his  bookishness  and  his  certificates  to  set  against 
it  all — and  she  had  seen  Carlyle's  house !  "  Down 
here,"  she  said,  "  there's  nothing  to  talk  about  but 
scandal."     It  was  too  true. 

At  the  corner  by  the  stile,  beyond  which  the  wil- 
lows were  splendid  against  the  blue  with  silvery 
aments  and  golden  pollen,  they  turned  by  mutual 
impulse  and  retraced  their  steps.  "  I've  simply  had 
no  one  to  talk  to  down  here,"  she  said.  "  Not  what 
/  call  talking." 

"  I  hope,"  said  Lewisham,  making  a  resolute 
plunge,  "  perhaps  while  you  are  staying  at  Whort- 
ley ..." 

He  paused  perceptibly,  and  she,  following  his 
eyes,  saw  a  voluminous  black  figure  approaching. 
"  We  may,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham,  resuming  his  re- 
mark, "  chance  to  meet  again,  perhaps." 

He  had  been  about  to  challenge  her  to  a  delib- 
erate meeting.  A  certain  delightful  tangle  of  paths 
that  followed  the  bank  of  the  river  had  been  in  his 
mind.  But  the  apparition  of  Mr.  George  Bonover, 
headmaster  of  the  Whortley  Proprietary  School, 
chilled  him  amazingly.  Dame  Nature  no  doubt  had 
arranged  the  meeting  of  our  young  couple,  but 
about  Bonover   she  seems  to  have   been   culpably 


RAISED  EYEBROWS  33 

careless.  She  now  receded  inimitably,  and  Mr. 
Lewisham,  with  the  most  unpleasant  feelings,  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  a  typical  representative  of 
a  social  organisation  which  objects  very  strongly 
inter  alia  to  promiscuous  conversation  on  the  part 
of  the  young  unmarried  junior  master. 

"  — chance  to  meet  again,  perhaps,"  said  Mr. 
Lewisham,  with  a  sudden  lack  of  spirit. 

"  I  hope  so  too,"  she  said. 

Pause.  Mr.  Bonover's  features,  and  particularly 
a  bushy  pair  of  black  eyebrows,  were  now  very 
near,  those  eyebrows  already  raised,  apparently  to 
express  a  refined  astonishment. 

"  Is  this  Mr.  Bonover  approaching  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

Prolonged  pause. 

Would  he  stop  and  accost  them  ?  At  any  rate 
this  frightful  silence  must  end.  Mr.  Lewisham 
sought  in  his  mind  for  some  remark  wherewith  to 
cover  his  employer's  approach.  He  was  surprised 
to  find  his  mind  a  desert.  He  made  a  colossal  ef- 
fort. If  they  could  only  talk,  if  they  could  only 
seem  at  their  ease  !  But  this  blank  incapacity  was 
eloquent  of  guilt.     Ah  ! 

"  It's  a  lovely  day,  though,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham. 
"Isn't  it?" 

She  agreed  with  him.     "  Isn't  it  ?  "  she  said. 

And   then    Mr.  Bonover   passed,   forehead  tight 


34  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

reefed  so  to  speak,  and  lips  impressively  compressed. 
Mr.  Lewisham  raised  his  mortar-board,  and  to  his 
astonishment  Mr.  Bonover  responded  with  a  mark- 
edly formal  salute — mock  clerical  hat  sweeping  cir- 
cuitously — and  the  regard  of  a  searching,  disapprov- 
ing eye,  and  so  passed.  Lewisham  was  overcome 
with  astonishment  at  this  improvement  on  the  nod 
of  their  ordinary  commerce.  And  so  this  terrible 
incident  terminated  for  the  time. 

He  felt  a  momentary  gust  of  indignation.  After 
all,  why  should  Bonover  or  anyone  interfere  with 
his  talking  to  a  girl  if  he  chose  ?  And  for  all  he 
knew  they  might  have  been  properly  introduced. 
By  young  Frobisher,  say.  Nevertheless,  Lewisham's 
spring-tide  mood  relapsed  into  winter.  He  was,  he 
felt,  singularly  stupid  for  the  rest  of  their  conver- 
sation, and  the  delightful  feeling  of  enterprise  that 
had  hitherto  inspired  and  astonished  him  when  talk- 
ing to  her  had  shrivelled  beyond  contempt.  He 
was  glad — positively  glad — when  things  came  to  an 
end. 

At  the  park  gates  she  held  out  her  hand. 
"  I'm  afraid  I  have  interrupted  your  reading," 
she  said. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham  warming  slightly. 
"  I  don't  know  when  I've  enjoyed  a  conversa- 
tion. ..." 

"  It   was — a    breach   of    etiquette,   I   am  afraid, 


RAISED  EYEBROWS  35 

my  speaking  to  you,  but  I  did  so  want  to  thank 
you.  ..." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham,  secretly 
impressed  by  the  etiquette. 

"  Good-bye."  He  stood  hesitating  by  the  lodge, 
and  then  turned  back  up  the  avenue  in  order  not 
to  be  seen  to  follow  her  too  closely  up  the  West 
Street. 

And  then,  still  walking  away  from  her,  he  remem- 
bered that  he  had  not  lent  her  a  book  as  he  had 
planned,  nor  made  any  arrangement  ever  to  meet  her 
again.  She  might  leave  Whortley  anywhen  for  the 
amenities  of  Clapham.  He  stopped  and  stood  ir- 
resolute. Should  he  run  after  her?  Then  he  re- 
called Bonover's  enigmatical  expression  of  face. 
He  decided  that  to  pursue  her  would  be  altogether 
too  conspicuous.  Yet  ...  So  he  stood  in  in- 
glorious hesitation,  while  the  seconds  passed. 

He  reached  his  lodging  at  last  to  find  Mrs.  Mun- 
day  halfway  through  dinner. 

"You  get  them  books  of  yours,"  said  Mrs.  Mun- 
day,  who  took  a  motherly  interest  in  him,  "  and 
you  read  and  you  read,  and  you  take  no  account  of 
time.  And  now  you'll  have  to  eat  your  dinner  half 
cold  and  no  time  for  it  to  settle  proper  before  you 
goes  off  to  school.  It's  ruination  to  a  stummik — 
such  ways." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  my   stomach,  Mrs.  Munday," 


36  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

said  Lewisham,  roused  from  a  tangled  and  ap- 
parently gloomy  meditation ;  "  that's  my  affair." 
Quite  crossly  he  spoke  for  him. 

"  I'd  rather  have  a  good  sensible  actin'  stummik 
than  a  full  head,"  said  Mrs.  Munday,  "  any  day." 

"I'm  different,  you  see,"  snapped  Mr.  Lewisham, 
and  relapsed  into  silence  and  gloom. 

("  Hoity  toity !  "  said  Mrs.  Munday  under  her 
breath.) 


CHAPTER  V 

HESITATIONS 

Mr.  BONOVER,  having  fully  matured  a  Hint  suit- 
able for  the  occasion,  dropped  it  in  the  afternoon, 
while  Lewisham  was  superintending  cricket  practice. 
He  made  a  few  remarks  about  the  prospects  of  the 
first  eleven  by  way  of  introduction,  and  Lewisham 
agreed  with  him  that  Frobisher  i.  looked  like  shap- 
ing very  well  this  season. 

A  pause  followed  and  the  headmaster  hummed. 
"  By-the-bye,"  he  said,  as  if  making  conversation 
and  still  watching  the  play ;  "  I,  ah — understood 
that  you,  ah — were  a  stranger  to  Whortley." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lewisham,  "  that's  so." 

"  You  have  made  friends  in  the  neighbourhood?'* 

Lewisham  was  troubled  with  a  cough  and  his  ears 
— those  confounded  ears — brightened.  "  Yes,"  he 
said,  recovering.     "  Oh  yes.     Yes.     I  have." 

"  Local  people,  I  presume." 

"Well,  no.  Not  exactly."  The  brightness  spread 
from  Lewisham's  ears  over  his  face. 

"  I  saw  you,"  said  Bonover,  "  talking  to  a  young 

3/ 


38  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

lady  in  the  avenue.  Her  face  was  somehow  quite 
familiar  to  me.     Who  was  she  ?  " 

Should  he  say  she  was  a  friend  of  the  Frobishers  ? 
In  that  case  Bonover,  in  his  insidious  amiable  way 
might  talk  to  the  Frobisher  parents  and  make  things 
disagreeable  for  her.  "  She  was,"  said  Lewisham, 
flushing  deeply  with  the  stress  on  his  honesty  and 
dropping  his  voice  to  a  mumble,  "  a  ...  a  ...  an 
old  friend  of  my  mother's.  In  fact,  I  met  her  once 
at  Salisbury." 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  Salisbury." 

"And  her  name?" 

"  Smith,"  said  Lewisham,  a  little  hastily  and  re- 
penting the  lie  even  as  it  left  his  lips. 

"  Well  hit,  Harris !  "  shouted  Bonover,  and  began 
to  clap  his  hands.     "  Well  hit,  sir." 

"  Harris  shapes  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham. 

"  Very,"  said  Mr.  Bonover.  "  And — what  was  it  ? 
Ah !  I  was  just  remarking  the  odd  resemblances  there 
are  in  the  world.  There  is  a  Miss  Henderson — or 
Henson — stopping  with  the  Frobishers — in  the  very 
same  town,  in  fact,  the  very  picture  of  your  Miss  .  .  ." 

"  Smith,"  said  Lewisham,  meeting  his  eye  and 
recovering  the  full  crimson  note  of  his  first  blush. 

"  It's  odd,"  said  Bonover,  regarding  him  pensively. 

"Very  odd,"  mumbled  Lewisham,  cursing  his 
own  stupidity  and  looking  away. 


HESITATIONS  39 

"  Very — very  odd,"  said  Bonover. 

"  In  fact,"  said  Bonover,  turning  towards  the 
schoolhouse,  "  I  hardly  expected  it  of  you,  Mr. 
Lewisham." 

"  Expected  what,  sir?  " 

But  Mr.  Bonover  feigned  to  be  already  out  of 
earshot. 

"  Damn  !  "  said  Mr.  Lewisham.  "  Oh  \—damn  !  " 
— a  most  objectionable  expression  and  rare  with 
him  in  those  days.  He  had  half  a  mind  to  follow 
the  headmaster  and  ask  him  if  he  doubted  his  word. 
It  was  only  too  evident  what  the  answer  would  be. 

He  stood  for  a  minute  undecided,  then  turned  on 
his  heel  and  marched  homeward  with  savage  steps. 
His  muscles  quivered  as  he  walked,  and  his  face 
twitched.  The  tumult  of  his  mind  settled  at  last 
into  angry  indignation. 

"  Confound  him  ! "  said  Mr.  Lewisham,  arguing 
the  matter  out  with  the  bedroom  furniture.  "  Why 
the  devil  can't  he  mind  his  own  business?  " 

"  Mind  your  own  business,  sir !  "  shouted  Mr. 
Lewisham  at  the  wash-hand  stand.  "  Confound 
you,  sir,  mind  your  own  business !  " 

The  wash-hand  stand  did. 

"You  overrate  your  power,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Lewis- 
ham a  little  mollified.  "  Understand  me  !  I  am 
my  own  master  out  of  school." 

Nevertheless,  for  four  days  and  some  hours  aftef 


4o  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Mr.  Bonover's  Hint,  Mr.  Lewisham  so  far  observed 
its  implications  as  to  abandon  open-air  study  and 
struggle  with  diminishing  success  to  observe  the 
spirit  as  well  as  the  letter  of  his  time  table  pre- 
scriptions. For  the  most  part  he  fretted  at  accu- 
mulating tasks,  did  them  with  slipshod  energy  or 
looked  out  of  window.  The  Career  constituent  in- 
sisted that  to  meet  and  talk  to  this  girl  again  meant 
reproof,  worry,  interference  with  his  work  for  his 
matriculation,  the  destruction  of  all  "  Discipline," 
and  he  saw  the  entire  justice  of  the  insistence.  It 
was  nonsense  this  being  in  love  ;  there  wasn't  such 
a  thing  as  love  outside  of  trashy  novelettes.  And 
forthwith  his  mind  went  off  at  a  tangent  to  her  eyes 
under  the  shadow  of  her  hat  brim,  and  had  to  be 
lugged  back  by  main  force.  On  Thursday  when  he 
was  returning  from  school  he  saw  her  far  away  down 
the  street,  and  hurried  in  to  avoid  her,  looking 
ostentatiously  in  the  opposite  direction.  But  that 
was  a  turning-point.  Shame  overtook  him.  On  Fri- 
day his  belief  in  love  was  warm  and  living  again,  and 
his  heart  full  of  remorse  for  laggard  days, 

On  Saturday  morning  his  preoccupation  with  her 
was  so  vivid  that  it  distracted  him  even  while  he 
was  teaching  that  most  teachable  subject,  algebra, 
and  by  the  end  of  the  school  hours  the  issue  was 
deeided  and  the  Career  in  headlong  rout.  That 
afternoon  he  would  go,  whatever  happened,  and  see 


HESITATIONS  41 

her  and  speak  to  her  again.     The  thought  of  Bon- 
over  arose  only  to  be  dismissed.     And  besides — 

Bonover  took  a  siesta  early  in  the  afternoon. 

Yes,  he  would  go  out  and  find  her  and  speak  to 
her.     Nothing  should  stop  him. 

Once  that  decision  was  taken  his  imagination  be- 
came riotous  with  things  he  might  say,  attitudes  he 
might  strike,  and  a  multitude  of  vague  fine  dreams 
about  her.  He  would  say  this,  he  would  say  that, 
his  mind  would  do  nothing  but  circle  round  this 
wonderful  pose  of  lover.  What  a  cur  he  had  been 
to  hide  from  her  so  long  !  What  could  he  have 
been  thinking  about  ?  How  could  he  explain  it  to 
her,  when  the  meeting  really  came?  Suppose  he 
was  very  frank — 

He  considered  the  limits  of  frankness.  Would 
she  believe  he  had  not  seen  her  on  Thursday? — 
if  he  assured  her  that  it  was  so  ? 

And,  most  horrible,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  came 
Bonover  with  a  request  that  he  would  take  "duty  " 
in  the  cricket  field  instead  of  Dunkerley  that  after- 
noon. Dunkerley  was  the  senior  assistant  mastei 
Lewisham's  sole  colleague.  The  last  vestige  of  1 
approbation  had  vanished  from  Bonover's  manner; 
asking  a  favour  was  his  autocratic  way  of  proffering 
the  olive  branch.  But  it  came  to  Lewisham  as  a 
cruel  imposition.  For  a  fateful  moment  he  trem- 
bled on  the  brink  of  acquiescence.     In  a  flash  came 


42  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM  , 

a  vision  of  the  long  duty  of  the  afternoon — she  pos- 
sibly packing  for  Clapham  all  the  while.  He  turned 
white.     Mr.  Bonover  watched  his  face. 

"No"  said  Lewisham  bluntly,  saying  all  he  was 
sure  of,  and  forthwith  racking  his  unpractised 
mind  for  an  excuse.  "  I'm  sorry  I  can't  oblige  you, 
but  .  .  .  my  arrangements  .  .  .  I've  made  arrange- 
ments, in  fact,  for  the  afternoon.5' 

Mr.  Bonover's  eyebrows  went  up  at  this  obvious 
lie,  and  the  glow  of  his  suavity  faded.  "  You  see," 
he  said,  "  Mrs.  Bonover  expects  a  friend  this  after- 
noon, and  we  rather  want  Mr.  Dunkerley  to  make 
four  at  croquet.  ..." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham,  still  resolute,  and 
making  a  mental  note  that  Bonover  would  be  play- 
ing croquet. 

"  You  don't  play  croquet  by  any  chance  ?  "  asked 
Bonover. 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham,  "  I  haven't  an  idea." 

"  If  Mr.  Dunkerley  had  asked  you  ?  .  .  .  "  per- 
sisted Bonover,  knowing  Lewisham's  respect  for 
etiquette. 

"  Oh  !  it  wasn't  on  that  account,"  said  Lewisham, 
and  Bonover  with  eyebrows  still  raised  and  a  general 
air  of  outraged  astonishment  left  him  standing  there, 
white  and  stiff,  and  wondering  at  his  extraordinary 
temerity. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SCANDALOUS  RAMBLE 

As  soon  as  school  was  dismissed  Lewisham  made 
a  gaol-delivery  of  his  outstanding  impositions,  and 
hurried  back  to  his  lodgings,  to  spend  the  time 
until  his  dinner  was  ready — Well  ?  ...  It  seems 
hardly  fair,  perhaps,  to  Lewisham  to  tell  this ;  it  is 
doubtful,  indeed,  whether  a  male  novelist's  duty 
to  his  sex  should  not  restrain  him,  but,  as  the  wall 
in  the  shadow  by  the  diamond-framed  window 
insisted,  "  Magna  est  Veritas  et  prevalebit"  Mr. 
Lewisham  brushed  his  hair  with  elaboration,  and 
ruffled  it  picturesquely,  tried  the  effect  of  all  his 
ties  and  selected  a  white  one,  dusted  his  boots  with 
an  old  pocket-handkerchief,  changed  his  trousers 
because  the  week-day  pair  was  minutely  frayed  at 
the  heels,  and  inked  the  elbows  of  his  coat  where 
the  stitches  were  a  little  white.  And,  to  be  still 
more  intimate,  he  studied  his  callow  appearance  in 
the  glass  from  various  points  of  view,  and  decided 
that  his  nose  might  have  been  a  little  smaller  with 
advantage.  .  .  . 

43 


44  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Directly  after  dinner  he  went  out,  and  by  tht. 
shortest  path  to  the  allotment  lane,  telling  himself 
he  did  not  care  if  he  met  Bonover  forthwith  in  the 
street.  He  did  not  know  precisely  what  he  intended 
to  do,  but  he  was  quite  clear  that  he  meant  to  see 
the  girl  he  had  met  in  the  avenue.  He  knew  he 
should  see  her.  A  sense  of  obstacles  merely  braced 
him  and  was  pleasurable.  He  went  up  the  stone 
steps  out  of  the  lane  to  the  stile  that  overlooked 
the  Frobishers,  the  stile  from  which  he  had  watched 
the  Frobisher  bedroom.  There  he  seated  himself 
with  his  arms  folded,  in  full  view  of  the  house. 

That  was  at  ten  minutes  to  two.  At  twenty 
minutes  to  three  he  was  still  sitting  there,  but  his 
hands  were  deep  in  his  jacket  pockets,  and  he  was 
scowling  and  kicking  his  foot  against  the  step  with 
an  impatient  monotony.  His  needless  glasses  had 
been  thrust  into  his  waistcoat  pocket — where  they 
remained  throughout  the  afternoon — and  his  cap 
was  tilted  a  little  back  from  his  forehead  and  ex- 
posed a  wisp  of  hair.  One  or  two  people  had  gone 
down  the  lane,  and  he  had  pretended  not  to  see 
them,  and  a  couple  of  hedge-sparrows  chasing  each 
other  along  the  side  of  the  sunlit,  wind-rippled  field 
had  been  his  chief  entertainment.  It  is  unaccount- 
able, no  doubt,  but  he  felt  angry  with  her  as  the 
time  crept  on.     His  expression  lowered. 

He  heard  someone  going  by  in  the  lane  behind 


THE  SCANDALOUS  RAMBLE  45 

him.  He  would  not  look  round — it  annoyed  him 
to  think  of  people  seeing  him  in  this  position.  His 
once  eminent  discretion,  though  overthrown,  still 
made  muffled  protests  at  the  afternoon's  enterprise. 
The  feet  down  the  lane  stopped  close  at  hand. 

"  Stare  away,"  said  Lewisham  between  his  teeth. 
And  then  began  mysterious  noises,  a  violent  rustle 
of  hedge  twigs,  a  something  like  a  very  light  foot- 
tapping. 

Curiosity  boarded  Lewisham  and  carried  him 
after  the  briefest  struggle.  He  looked  round, 
and  there  she  was,  her  back  to  him,  reaching  after 
the  spiky  blossoming  blackthorn  that  crested  the 
opposite  hedge.  Remarkable  accident !  She  had 
not  seen  him  ! 

In  a  moment  Lewisham's  legs  were  flying  over 
the  stile.  He  went  down  the  steps  in  the  bank 
with  such  impetus  that  it  carried  him  up  into  the 
prickly  bushes  beside  her.  "  Allow  me,"  he  said, 
too  excited  to  see  she  was  not  astonished. 

"  Mr.  Lewisham  ! "  she  said  in  feigned  surprise, 
and  stood  away  to  give  him  room  at  the  blackthorn. 

"Which  spike  will  you  have?"  he  cried  over- 
joyed.    "  The  whitest  ?     The  highest  ?     Any  !  " 

"  That  piece,"  she  chose  haphazard,  "  with  the 
black  spike  sticking  out  from  it." 

A  mass  of  snowy  blossom  it  was  against  the 
April  sky,  and   Lewisham,  struggling  for  it — it  was 


46  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM  • 

by  no  means  the  most  accessible — saw  with  fantas- 
tic satisfaction  a  lengthy  scratch  flash  white  on  his 
hand,  and  turn  to  red. 

"  Higher  up  the  lane,"  he  said,  descending  tri- 
umphant and  breathless,  "  there  is  blackthorn.  .  .  . 
This  cannot  compare  for  a  moment.  ..." 

She  laughed  and  looked  at  him  as  he  stood  there 
flushed,  his  eyes  triumphant,  with  an  unpremedi- 
tated approval.  In  church,  in  the  gallery,  with 
his  face  foreshortened,  he  had  been  effective  in 
a  way,  but  this  was  different.  "  Show  me,"  she  said, 
though  she  knew  this  was  the  only  place  for  black- 
thorn for  a  mile  in  either  direction. 

"  I  knew  I  should  see  you,"  he  said,  by  way  of 
answer.     "  I  felt  sure  I  should  see  you  to-day." 

"  It  was  our  last  chance  almost,"  she  answered 
with  as  frank  a  quality  of  avowal.  "  I'm  going 
home  to  London  on  Monday." 

"  I  knew,"  he  cried  in  triumph.  "  To  Clapham  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"Yes.  I  have  got  a  situation.  You  did  not 
know  that  I  was  a  shorthand  clerk  and  typewriter, 
did  you  ?  I  am.  I  have  just  left  the  school,  the 
Grogram  School.  And  now  there  is  an  old  gentle- 
man who  wants  an  amanuensis." 

"  So  you  know  shorthand  ? "  said  he.  "  That 
accounts  for  the  stylographic  pen.  Those  lines  were 
written.  ...  I  have  them  still." 


THE  SCANDALOUS  RAMBLE  47 

She  smiled  and  raised  her  eyebrows.  "  Here," 
said  Mr.  Lewisham  tapping  his  breast-pocket. 

"  This  lane,"  he  said — their  talk  was  curiously  in- 
consecutive— "  some  way  along  this  lane,  over  the 
hill  and  down,  there  is  a  gate,  and  that  goes — I 
mean,  it  opens  into  the  path  that  runs  along  the 
river  bank.     Have  you  been  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  It's  the  best  walk  about  Whortley.  It  brings 
you  out  upon  Immering  Common.  You  must — 
before  you  go." 

11  Now  ?  "  she  said  with  her  eyes  dancing. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  told  Mrs.  Frobisher  I  should  be  back  by  four," 
she  said. 

"  It's  a  walk  not  to  be  lost." 

"  Very  well,"  said  she. 

"The  trees  are  all  budding,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham, 
"  the  rushes  are  shooting,  and  all  along  the  edge  of 
the  river  there  are  millions  of  little  white  flowers 
floating  on  the  water,  /don't  know  the  names  of 
them,  but  they're  fine.  .  .  .  May  I  carry  that  branch 
of  blossom  ?  " 

As  he  took  it  their  hands  touched  momentarily 
.  .  .  and  there  came  another  of  those  significant 
gaps. 

"  Look  at  those  clouds,"  said  Lewisham  abruptly 
remembering  the  remark  he  had  been  about  to  make 


48  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

and  waving  the  white  froth  of  blackthorn.     "  And 
look  at  the  blue  between  them." 

"It's  perfectly  splendid.  Of  all  the  fine  weather 
the  best  has  been  kept  for  now.  My  last  day.  My 
very  last  day." 

And  off  these  two  young  people  went  together  in 
a  highly  electrical  state — to  the  infinite  astonish- 
ment of  Mrs.  Frobisher,  who  was  looking  out  of  the 
attic  window — stepping  out  manfully  and  finding 
the  whole  world  lit  and  splendid  for  their  entertain- 
ment. The  things  they  discovered  and  told  each 
other  that  afternoon  down  by  the  river  ! — that  spring 
was  wonderful,  young  leaves  beautiful,  bud  scales 
astonishing  things,  and  clouds  dazzling  and  stately ! — 
with  an  air  of  supreme  originality  !  And  their  naive 
astonishment  to  find  one  another  in  agreement  upon 
these  novel  delights  !  It  seemed  to  them  quite  out- 
side the  play  of  accident  that  they  should  have  met 
each  other. 

They  went  by  the  path  that  runs  among  the  trees 
along  the  river  bank,  and  she  must  needs  repent  and 
wish  to  take  the  lower  one,  the  towing  path,  before 
they  had  gone  three  hundred  yards.  So  Lewisham 
had  to  find  a  place  fit  for  her  descent,  where  a 
friendly  tree  proffered  its  protruding  roots  as  a  con- 
venient balustrade,  and  down  she  clambered  with 
her  hand  in  his. 

Then   a   water-vole   washing   his   whiskers   gave 


THE  SCANDALOUS  RAMBLE  49 

occasion  for  a  sudden  touching  of  hands  and  the  in- 
timate confidence  of  whispers  and  silence  together. 
After  which  Lewisham  essayed  to  gather  her  a 
marsh  mallow  at  the  peril,  as  it  was  judged,  of  his 
life,  and  gained  it  together  with  a  bootful  of  water. 
And  at  the  gate  by  the  black  and  shiny  lock,  where 
the  path  breaks  away  from  the  river,  she  overcame 
him  by  an  unexpected  feat,  climbing  gleefully  to 
the  top  rail  with  the  support  of  his  hand,  and  leap- 
ing down,  a  figure  of  light  and  grace,  to  the  ground. 

They  struck  boldly  across  the  meadows,  which 
were  gay  with  lady's  smock,  and  he  walked,  by 
special  request,  between  her  and  three  matronly 
cows — feeling  as  Perseus  might  have  done  when  he 
fended  off  the  sea-monster.  And  so  by  the  mill, 
and  up  a  steep  path  to  Immering  Common.  Across 
the  meadows  Lewisham  had  broached  the  subject 
of  her  occupation.  "  And  are  you  really  going 
away  from  here  to  be  an  amanuensis?  "  he  said,  and 
started  her  upon  the  theme  of  herself,  a  theme  she 
treated  with  a  specialist's  enthusiasm.  They  dealt 
with  it  by  the  comparative  method,  and  neither 
noticed  the  light  was  out  of  the  sky  until  the  soft 
feet  of  the  advancing  shower  had  stolen  right  upon 
them. 

"Look!"  said  he.  "Yonder!  A  shed,"  and 
they  ran  together.  She  ran  laughing,  and  yet 
swiftly    and   lightly.     lie   pulled    her    through  the 


50  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

hedge  by  both  hands,  and  released  her  skirt  from 
an  amorous  bramble,  and  so  they  came  into  a  little 
black  shed  in  which  a  rusty  harrow  of  gigantic  pro- 
portions sheltered.  He  noted  how  she  still  kept 
her  breath  after  that  run. 

She  sat  down  on  the  harrow  and  hesitated.  "  I 
must  take  off  my  hat,"  she  said,  "  that  rain  will  spot 
it,"  and  so  he  had  a  chance  of  admiring  the  sincerity 
of  her  curls — not  that  he  had  ever  doubted  them. 
She  stooped  over  her  hat,  pocket-handkerchief  in 
hand,  daintily  wiping  off  the  silvery  drops.  He 
stood  up  at  the  opening  of  the  shed  and  looked  at 
the  country  outside  through  the  veil  of  the  soft 
vehemence  of  the  April  shower. 

"  There's  room  for  two  on  this  harrow,"  she  said. 

He  made  inarticulate  sounds  of  refusal,  and  then 
came  and  sat  down  beside  her,  close  beside  her,  so 
that  he  was  almost  touching  her.  He  felt  a  fan- 
tastic desire  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  kiss  her, 
and  overcame  the  madness  by  an  effort.  "  I  don't 
even  know  your  name,"  he  said,  taking  refuge  from 
his  whirling  thoughts  in  conversation. 

"  Henderson,"  she  said. 

"  Miss  Henderson  ?  " 

She  smiled  in  his  face — hesitated.  "Yes — Miss 
Henderson." 

Her  eyes,  her  atmosphere  were  wonderful.  He 
had  never  felt  quite  the  same  sensation  before,  a 


THE  SCANDALOUS  RAMBLE  51 

strange  excitement,  almost  like  a  faint  echo  of  tears. 
He  was  for  demanding  her  Christian  name.  For 
calling  her  "  dear  "  and  seeing  what  she  would  say. 
He  plunged  headlong  into  a  rambling  description  of 
Bonover  and  how  he  had  told  a  lie  about  her  and 
called  her  Miss  Smith,  and  so  escaped  this  unac- 
countable emotional  crisis.  .  .  . 

The  whispering  of  the  rain  about  them  sank  and 
died,  and  the  sunlight  struck  vividly  across  the  dis- 
tant woods  beyond  Immering.  Just  then  they  had 
fallen  on  a  silence  again  that  was  full  of  daring 
thoughts  for  Mr.  Lewisham.  He  moved  his  arm 
suddenly  and  placed  it  so  that  it  was  behind  her  on 
the  frame  of  the  harrow. 

"  Let  us  go  on  now,"  she  said  abruptly.  "  The 
rain  has  stopped." 

"  That  little  path  goes  straight  to  Immering,"  said 
Mr.  Lewisham. 

"But,  four  o'clock?" 

He  drew  out  his  watch  and  his  eyebrows  went  up. 
It  was  already  nearly  a  quarter  past  four. 

"  Is  it  past  four?"  she  asked,  and  abruptly  they 
were  face  to  face  with  parting.  That  Lewis- 
ham had  to  take  "  duty  "  at  half-past  five  seemed  a 
thing  utterly  trivial.  "  Surely,"  he  said,  only  slowly 
realising  what  this  parting  meant.  "  But  must  you  ? 
I — I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Haven't  you  been  talking  to  me  ?  " 


52  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  It  isn't  that.     Besides— no." 

She  stood  looking  at  him.  "  I  promised  to  be 
home  by  four,"  she  said.  "  Mrs.  Frobisher  has 
tea.  .  .  ." 

11  We  may  never  have  a  chance  to  see  one  another 
again." 

"Well?" 

Lewisham  suddenly  turned  very  white. 

"  Don't  leave  me,"  he  said, breaking  a  tense  silence 
and  with  a  sudden  stress  in  his  voice.  "  Don't  leave 
me.  Stop  with  me  yet — for  a  little  while.  .  .  . 
You  .  .  .     You  can  lose  your  way." 

"  You  seem  to  think,"  she  said  forcing  a  laugh, 
"  that  I  live  without  eating  and  drinking." 

"  I  have  wanted  to  talk  to  you  so  much.  The 
first  time  I  saw  you.  ...  At  first  I  dared  not  .  .  . 
I  did  not  know  you  would  let  me  talk.  .  .  .  And 
now,  just  as  I  am — happy,  you  are  going." 

He  stopped  abruptly.  Her  eyes  were  downcast. 
"  No,"  she  said,  tracing  a  curve  with  the  point  of 
her  shoe.     "  No.     I  am  not  going." 

Lewisham  restrained  an  impulse  to  shout.  "  You 
will  come  to  Immering?"  he  cried,  and  as  they 
went  along  the  narrow  path  through  the  wet  grass, 
he  began  to  tell  her  with  simple  frankness  how  he 
cared  for  her  company.  "  I  would  not  change  this," 
he  said,  casting  about  for  an  offer  to  reject,  "  for — 
anything  in  the  world.  ...  I  shall  not  be  back  for 


THE  SCANDALOUS  RAMBLE  53 

duty.  I  don't  care.  I  don't  care  what  happens  so 
long  as  we  have  this  afternoon." 

"  Nor  I,"  she  said. 

"  Thank  you  for  coming,"  he  said  in  an  outburst 
of  gratitude.  "  Oh,  thank  you  for  coming,"  and  held 
out  his  hand.  She  took  it  and  pressed  it,  and  so 
they  went  on  hand  in  hand  until  the  village  street 
was  reached.  Their  high  resolve  to  play  truant  at 
all  costs  had  begotten  a  wonderful  sense  of  fellow- 
ship. "  I  can't  call  you  Miss  Henderson,"  he  said. 
"You  know  I  can't.  You  know  ...  I  must  have 
your  Christian  name." 

"  Ethel,"  she  told  him. 

"  Ethel,"  he  said  and  looked  at  her,  gathering 
courage  as  he  did  so.  "  Ethel,"  he  repeated.  "It  is 
a  pretty  name.  But  no  name  is  quite  pretty  enough 
for  you,  Ethel  .  .  .  dear."  .  .  . 

The  little  shop  in  Immering  lay  back  behind  a  gar- 
den full  of  wallflowers,  and  was  kept  by  a  very  fat  and 
very  cheerful  little  woman,  who  insisted  on  regard- 
ing them  as  brother  and  sister,  and  calling  them 
both  "  dearie."  These  points  conceded  she  gave 
them  an  admirable  tea  of  astonishing  cheapness. 
Levvisham  did  not  like  the  second  condition  very 
much,  because  it  seemed  to  touch  a  little  on  his 
latest  enterprise.  But  the  tea  and  the  bread  and 
butter  and  the  whort  jam  were  like  no  food  on 
earth.     There  were  wallflowers,  heavy  scented,  in  a 


54  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

jug  upon  the  table,  and  Ethel  admired  them,  and 
when  they  set  out  again  the  little  old  lady  insisted 
on  her  taking  a  bunch  with  her. 

It  was  after  they  left  Immering  that  this  ramble, 
properly  speaking,  became  scandalous.  The  sun 
was  already  a  golden  ball  above  the  blue  hills  in 
the  west — it  turned  our  two  young  people  into 
little  figures  of  flame — and  yet,  instead  of  going 
homeward,  they  took  the  Wentworth  road  that 
plunges  into  the  Forshaw  woods.  Behind  them  the 
moon,  almost  full,  hung  in  the  blue  sky  above  the 
tree-tops,  ghostly  and  indistinct,  and  slowly  gathered 
to  itself  such  light  as  the  setting  sun  left  for  it  in 
the  sky. 

Going  out  of  Immering  they  began  to  talk  of  the 
future.  And  for  the  very  young  lover  there  is  no 
future  but  the  immediate  future. 

"You  must  write  to  me,"  he  said,  and  she  told 
him  she  wrote  such  silly  letters.  "  But  I  shall  have 
reams  to  write  to  you,"  he  told  her. 

"  How  are  you  to  write  to  me?"  she  asked,  and 
they  discussed  a  new  obstacle  between  them.  It 
would  never  do  to  write  home — never.  She  was 
sure  of  that  with  an  absolute  assurance.  "  My 
mother — "  she  said  and  stopped. 

That  prohibition  cut  him,  for  at  that  time  he  had 
the  makings  of  a  voluminous  letter-writer.  Yet 
it  was  only  what  one  might  expect.     The  whole 


THE  SCANDALOUS  RAMBLE  55 

world  was  unpropitious — obdurate  indeed.  ...  A 
splendid  isolation  a  deux. 

Perhaps  she  might  find  some  place  where  letters 
might  be  sent  to  her?  Yet  that  seemed  to  her 
deceitful. 

So  these  two  young  people  wandered  on,  full  of 
their  discovery  of  love,  and  yet  so  full  too  of  the 
shyness  of  adolescence  that  the  word  "  Love"  never 
passed  their  lips  that  day.  Yet  as  they  talked  on, 
and  the  kindly  dusk  gathered  about  them,  their 
speech  and  their  hearts  came  very  close  together. 
But  their  speech  would  seem  so  threadbare,  written 
down  in  cold  blood,  that  I  must  not  put  it  here. 
To  them  it  was  not  threadbare. 

When  at  last  they  came  down  the  long  road  into 
Whortley,  the  silent  trees  were  black  as  ink  and  the 
moonlight  made  her  face  pallid  and  wonderful,  and 
her  eyes  shone  like  stars.  She  still  carried  the 
blackthorn  from  which  most  of  the  blossoms  had 
fallen.  The  fragrant  wallflowers  were  fragrant  still. 
And  far  away,  softened  by  the  distance,  the  Whort- 
ley band,  performing  publicly  outside  the  vicarage 
for  the  first  time  that  year,  was  playing  with  unctu- 
ous slowness  a  sentimental  air.  I  don't  know  if  the 
reader  remembers  it,  that  favourite  melody  of  the 
early  eighties  : — 

"  Sweet  dreamland  faces,  passing  to  and  fro,  (pum,  pum) 
Bring  back  to  Mem'ry  days  of  long  ago-o-o-oh." 


56  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

was  the  essence  of  it,  very  slow  and  tender  and 
with  an  accompaniment  of  pum,pum.  Pathetically- 
cheerful  that  pum,  pum,  hopelessly  cheerful  indeed 
against  the  dirge  of  the  air,  a  dirge  accentuated  by 
sporadic  vocalisation.  But  to  young  people  things 
come  differently. 

"  I  love  music,"  she  said. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  he. 

They  came  on  down  the  steepness  of  West  Street. 
They  walked  athwart  the  metallic  and  leathery 
tumult  of  sound  into  the  light  cast  by  the  little 
circle  of  yellow  lamps.  Several  people  saw  them 
and  wondered  what  the  boys  and  girls  were  coming 
to  nowadays,  and  one  eye-witness  even  subsequently 
described  their  carriage  as  "  brazen."  Mr.  Lewis- 
ham  was  wearing  his  mortar-board  cap  of  office — 
there  was  no  mistaking  him.  They  passed  the 
Proprietary  School  and  saw  a  yellow  picture  framed 
and  glazed,  of  Mr.  Bonover  taking  duty  for  his 
aberrant  assistant  master.  And  outside  the  Fro- 
bisher  house  at  last  they  parted  perforce. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said  for  the  third  time.  "  Good- 
bye, Ethel." 

She  hesitated.  Then  suddenly  she  darted  to- 
wards him.  He  felt  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders, 
her  lips  soft  and  warm  upon  his  cheek,  and  before 
he  could  take  hold  of  her  she  had  eluded  him,  and 
had  flitted  into  the  shadow  of  the  house.     "  Good- 


THE  SCANDALOUS  RAMBLE  57 

bye,"  came  her  sweet,  clear  voice  out  of  the  shadow, 
and  while  he  yet  hesitated  an  answer,  the  door 
opened. 

He  saw  her,  black  in  the  doorway,  heard  some 
indistinct  words,  and  then  the  door  closed  and  he 
was  alone  in  the  moonlight,  his  cheek  still  glowing 
from  her  lips.  .  .  . 

So  ended  Mr.  Lewisham's  first  day  with  Love. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    RECKONING 

And  after  the  day  of  Love  came  the  days  of 
Reckoning.  Mr.  Lewisham  was  astonished — over- 
whelmed almost — by  that  Reckoning,  as  it  slowly 
and  steadily  unfolded  itself.  The  wonderful  emo- 
tions of  Saturday  carried  him  through  Sunday,  and 
he  made  it  up  with  the  neglected  Schema  by  assur- 
ing it  that  She  was  his  Inspiration,  and  that  he 
would  work  for  Her  a  thousand  times  better  than 
he  could  possibly  work  for  himself.  That  was  cer- 
tainly not  true,  and  indeed  he  found  himself  won- 
dering whither  the  interest  had  vanished  out  of  his 
theological  examination  of  Butler's  Analogy.  The 
Frobishers  were  not  at  church  for  either  service. 
He  speculated  rather  anxiously  why  ? 

Monday  dawned  coldly  and  clearly — a  Herbert 
Spencer  of  a  day — and  he  went  to  school  sedulously 
assuring  himself  there  was  nothing  to  apprehend. 
Day  boys  were  whispering  in  the  morning  appar- 
ently about  him,  and  Frobisher  ii.  was  in  great 
request.  Lewisham  overheard  a  fragment.  "  My 
mother  was  in  a  wax,"  said  Frobisher  ii. 

5» 


RECKONING  59 

At  twelve  came  an  interview  with  Bonover,  and 
voices  presently  rising  in  angry  altercation  and 
audible  to  Senior-assistant  Dunkerley  through  the 
closed  study  door.  Then  Lewisham  walked  across 
the  schoolroom,  staring  straight  before  him,  his 
cheeks  very  bright. 

Thereby  Dunkerley 's  mind  was  prepared  for  the 
news  that  came  the  next  morning  over  the  exercise 
books.     "When?"  said  Dunkerley. 

"  End  of  next  term,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  About  this  girl  that's  been  staying  at  the  Fro- 
bishers  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  She's  a  pretty  bit  of  goods.  But  it  will  mess 
up  your  matric  next  June,"  said  Dunkerley. 

"  That's  what  I'm  sorry  for." 

"  It's  scarcely  to  be  expected  he'll  give  you  leave 
to  attend  the  exam.  ..." 

"  He  won't,"  said  Lewisham  shortly,  and  opened 
his  first  exercise  book.    He  found  it  difficult  to  talk. 

"  He's  a  greaser,"  said  Dunkerley.  "  But  there  ! 
— what  can  you  expect  from  Durham?"  For  Bon- 
over had  only  a  Durham  degree  and  Dunkerley, 
having  none,  inclined  to  be  particular.  Therewith 
Dunkerley  lapsed  into  a  sympathetic  and  busy 
rustling  over  his  own  pile  of  exercises.  It  was  not 
until  the  heap  had  been  reduced  to  a  book  or  so 
that  he  spoke  again — an  elaborate  point. 


60  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Male  and  female  created  He  them,"  said  Dun- 
kerley  ticking  his  way  down  the  page.  "  Which 
(tick,  tick)  was  damned  hard  (tick,  tick)  on  assistant 
masters." 

He  closed  the  book  with  a  snap  and  flung  it  on 
the  floor  behind  him.  u  You're  lucky,"  he  said. 
"  I  did  think  I  should  be  first  to  get  out  of  this 
scandalising  hole.  You're  lucky.  It's  always  act- 
ing down  here.  Running  on  parents  and  guardians 
round  every  corner.  That's  what  I  object  to  in 
life  in  the  country :  it's  so  confoundedly  artificial, 
/shall  take  jolly  good  care  /get  out  of  it  just  as 
soon  as  ever  I  can.     You  bet !  " 

"And  work  those  patents  ?  " 

"  Rather,  my  boy.  Yes.  Work  those  patents. 
The  Patent  Square  Top  Bottle  !  Lord  !  Once  let 
me  get  to  London.  .  .  ." 

"  I  think  7"  shall  have  a  shot  at  London,"  said 
Lewisham. 

And  then  the  experienced  Dunkerley,  being  one 
of  the  kindest  young  men  alive,  forgot  certain  pri- 
vate ambitions  of  his  own — he  cherished  dreams  of 
amazing  patents — and  bethought  him  of  agents. 
He  proceeded  to  give  a  list  of  these  necessary  help- 
ers of  the  assistant  master  at  the  gangway — Orellana 
Gabbitas,  The  Lancaster  Gate  Agency,  and  the  rest 
of  them.  He  knew  them  all — intimately.  He  had 
been  a  "  nix  "  eight  years.     "  Of  course  that  Kensing- 


RECKONING  61 

ton  thing  may  come  off,"  said  Dunkerley,  "  but  it's 
best  not  to  wait.  I  tell  you  frankly — the  chances 
are  against  you." 

The  "  Kensington  thing  "  was  an  application  for 
admission  to  the  Normal  School  of  Science  at  South 
Kensington,  which  Lewisham  had  made  in  a  san- 
guine moment.  There  being  an  inadequate  supply 
of  qualified  science  teachers  in  England,  the  Science 
and  Art  Department  is  wont  to  offer  free  instruction 
at  its  great  central  school  and  a  guinea  a  week  to 
select  young  pedagogues  who  will  bind  themselves 
to  teach  science  after  their  training  is  over.  Dunker- 
ley had  been  in  the  habit  of  applying  for  several 
years,  always  in  vain,  and  Lewisham  had  seen  no 
harm  in  following  his  example.  But  then  Dunker- 
ley had  no  green-grey  certificates. 

So  Lewisham  spent  all  that  "  duty  "  left  him  of 
the  next  day  composing  a  letter  to  copy  out  and 
send  the  several  scholastic  agencies.  In  this  he  gave 
a  brief  but  appreciative  sketch  of  his  life,  and  en- 
larged upon  his  discipline  and  educational  methods. 
At  the  end  was  a  long  and  decorative  schedule  of 
his  certificates  and  distinctions,  beginning  with  a 
good-conduct  prize  at  the  age  of  eight.  A  con- 
siderable amount  of  time  was  required  to  recopy 
this  document,  but  his  modesty  upheld  him.  After 
a  careful  consideration  of  the  time-table,  he  set 
aside  the  midday  hour  for  "  Correspondence." 


62  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

He  found  that  his  work  in  mathematics  and 
classics  was  already  some  time  in  arrears,  and  a 
"  test "  he  had  sent  to  his  correspondence  Tutor 
during  those  troublous  days  after  the  meeting  with 
Bonover  in  the  Avenue,  came  back  blottesquely 
indorsed  :  "  Below  Pass  Standard."  This  last 
experience  was  so  unprecedented  and  annoyed  him 
so  much  that  for  a  space  he  contemplated  retorting 
with  a  sarcastic  letter  to  the  tutor.  And  then  came 
the  Easter  recess,  and  he  had  to  go  home  and  tell 
his  mother,  with  a  careful  suppression  of  details, 
that  he  was  leaving  Whortley.  "  Where  you  have 
been  getting  on  so  well !  "  cried  his  mother. 

But  that  dear  old  lady  had  one  consolation.  She 
observed  he  had  given  up  his  glasses — he  had  for- 
gotten to  bring  them  with  him — and  her  secret  fear 
of  grave  optical  troubles — that  were  being  "  kept  " 
from  her — was  alleviated. 

Sometimes  he  had  moods  of  intense  regret  for 
the  folly  of  that  walk.  One  such  came  after  the 
holidays,  when  the  necessity  of  revising  the  dates 
of  the  Schema  brought  before  his  mind,  for  the  first 
time  quite  clearly,  the  practical  issue  of  this  first 
struggle  with  all  those  mysterious  and  powerful  in- 
fluences the  spring-time  sets  a-stirring.  His  dream 
of  success  and  fame  had  been  very  real  and  dear  to 
him,  and  the  realisation  of  the  inevitable  postpone- 
ment of  his  long  anticipated  matriculation,  the  door- 


RECKONING  63 

way  to  all  the  other  great  things,  took  him  abruptly 
like  an  actual  physical  sensation  in  his  chest. 

He  sprang  up,  pen  in  hand,  in  the  midst  of  his 
corrections,  and  began  pacing  up  and  down  the 
room.  "  What  a  fool  I  have  been !  "  he  cried. 
"  What  a  fool  I  have  been  !  " 

He  flung  the  pen  on  the  floor  and  made  a  rush  at 
an  ill-drawn  attempt  upon  a  girl's  face  that  adorned 
the  end  of  his  room,  the  visible  witness  of  his  slavery. 
He  tore  this  down  and  sent  the  fragments  of  it 
scattering.  .  . 

"Fool!" 

It  was  a  relief — a  definite  abandonment.  He 
stared  for  a  moment  at  the  destruction  he  had  made, 
and  then  went  back  to  the  revision  of  the  time- 
table, with  a  mutter  about  "  silly  spooning." 

That  was  one  mood.  The  rarer  one.  He  watched 
the  posts  with  far  more  eagerness  for  the  address 
to  which  he  might  write  to  her  than  for  any  reply 
to  those  reiterated  letters  of  application,  the  writ- 
ing of  which  now  ousted  Horace  and  the  higher 
mathematics  (Lewisham's  term  for  conies)  from  his 
attention.  Indeed  he  spent  more  time  meditating 
the  letter  to  her  than  even  the  schedule  of  his  vir- 
tues had  required. 

Yet  the  letters  of  application  were  wonderful 
compositions  ;  each  had  a  new  pen  to  itself  and  was 
for  the  first  page  at  least  in  a  handwriting  far  above 


64  LOVE  AND  MR.   LEWISHAM 

even  his  usual  high  standard.  And  day  after  day 
passed  and  that  particular  letter  he  hoped  for  still 
did  not  come. 

His  moods  were  complicated  by  the  fact  that,  in 
spite  of  his  studied  reticence  on  the  subject,  the 
reason  of  his  departure  did  in  an  amazingly  short 
time  get  "all  over  Whortley."  It  was  understood 
that  he  had  been  discovered  to  be  "fast,"  and 
Ethel's  behaviour  was  animadverted  upon  with 
complacent  indignation — if  the  phrase  may  be  al- 
lowed— by  the  ladies  of  the  place.  Pretty  looks 
were  too  often  a  snare.  One  boy — his  ear  was 
warmed  therefor — once  called  aloud  "  Ethel,"  as 
Lewisham  went  by.  The  curate,  a  curate  of  the 
pale-faced,  large-knuckled,  nervous  sort,  now 
passed  him  without  acknowledgment  of  his  exist- 
ence. Mrs.  Bonover  took  occasion  to  tell  him  that 
he  was  a  "mere  boy,"  and  once  Mrs.  Frobisher 
sniffed  quite  threateningly  at  him  when  she  passed 
him  in  the  street.  She  did  it  so  suddenly  she  made 
him  jump. 

This  general  disapproval  inclined  him  at  times  to 
depression,  but  in  certain  moods  he  found  it  exhil- 
arating, and  several  times  he  professed  himself  to 
Dunkerley  not  a  little  of  a  blade.  In  others,  he 
told  himself  he  bore  it  for  her  sake.  Anyhow  he 
had  to  bear  it. 

He  began  to  find  out  too,  how  little  the  world 


RECKONING  65 

feels  the  need  of  a  young  man  of  nineteen — he 
called  himself  nineteen,  though  he  had  several 
months  of  eighteen  still  to  run — even  though  he 
adds  prizes  for  good  conduct,  general  improvement, 
and  arithmetic,  and  advanced  certificates  signed  by 
a  distinguished  engineer  and  headed  with  the  Royal 
Arms,  guaranteeing  his  knowledge  of  geometrical 
drawing,  nautical  astronomy,  animal  physiology, 
physiography,  inorganic  chemistry  and  building 
construction,  to  his  youth  and  strength  and  energy. 
At  first  he  had  imagined  headmasters  clutching  at 
the  chance  of  him,  and  presently  he  found  himself 
clutching  eagerly  at  them.  He  began  to  put  a  cer- 
tain urgency  into  his  applications  for  vacant  posts, 
an  urgency  that  helped  him  not  at  all.  The  appli- 
cations grew  longer  and  longer  until  they  rarv  to 
four  sheets  of  note-paper — a  pennyworth  in  fact. 
"  I  can  assure  you,"  he  would  write,  "  that  you  will 
find  me  a  loyal  and  devoted  assistant."  Much  in 
that  strain.  Dunkerley  pointed  out  that  Bonover's 
testimonial  ignored  the  question  of  moral  character 
and  discipline  in  a  marked  manner,  and  Bonover 
refused  to  alter  it.  He  was  willing  to  do  what 
he  could  to  help  Lewisham,  in  spite  of  the  way 
he  had  been  treated,  but  unfortunately  his  con- 
science .  .  . 

Once  or  twice  Lewisham  misquoted  the  testimo- 
nial— to  no  purpose.  And  May  was  half  way  through, 


66  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

and  South  Kensington  was  silent.  The  future  was 
grey. 

And  in  the  depths  of  his  doubt  and  disappoint- 
ment came  her  letter.  It  was  typewritten  on  thin 
paper.  "  Dear,"  she  wrote  simply,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  the  most  sweet  and  wonderful  of  all  possible 
modes  of  address,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  was 
because  she  had  forgotten  his  Christian  name  and 
afterwards  forgotten  the  blank  she  had  left  for  it. 

"  Dear,  I  could  not  write  before  because  I  have 
no  room  at  home  now  where  I  can  write  a  letter,  and 
Mrs.  Frobisher  told  my  mother  falsehoods  about 
you.  My  mother  has  surprised  me  dreadfully — I 
did  not  think  it  of  her.  She  told  me  nothing.  But 
of  that  I  must  tell  you  in  another  letter.  I  am  too 
angry  to  write  about  it  now.  Even  now  you  cannot 
write  back,  for  you  must  not  send  letters  here.  It 
would  never  do.  But  I  think  of  you,  dear," — the 
"dear"  had  been  erased  and  rewritten — "and  I 
must  write  and  tell  you  so,  and  of  that  nice  walk 
we  had,  if  I  never  write  again.  I  am  very  busy 
now.  My  work  is  rather  difficult  and  I  am  afraid  I 
am  a  little  stupid.  It  is  hard  to  be  interested  in 
anything  just  because  that  is  how  you  have  to  live, 
is  it  not  ?  I  daresay  you  sometimes  feel  the  same 
of  school.  But  I  suppose  everybody  is  doing  things 
they  don't  like.  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  come  to 
Whortley  again,  if  ever,  but  very  likely  you  will  be 


RECKONING  67 

coming  to  London.  Mrs.  Frobisher  said  the  most 
horrid  things.  It  would  be  nice  if  you  could  come 
to  London,  because  then  perhaps  you  might  see  me. 
There  is  a  big  boys'  school  at  Chelsea,  and  when  I 
go  by  it  every  morning  I  wish  you  were  there.  Then 
you  would  come  out  in  your  cap  and  gown  as  I 
went  by.  Suppose  some  day  I  was  to  see  you  there 
suddenly ! !  " 

So  it  ran,  with  singularly  little  information  in  it, 
and  ended  quite  abruptly,  "  Good-bye,  dear.  Good- 
bye, dear,"  scribbled  in  pencil.  And  then,  "  Think 
of  me  sometimes." 

Reading  it,  and  especially  that  opening  "  dear," 
made  Lewisham  feel  the  strangest  sensation  in  his 
throat  and  chest,  almost  as  though  he  was  going  to 
cry.  So  he  laughed  instead  and  read  it  again,  and 
went  to  and  fro  in  his  little  room  with  his  eyes 
bright  and  that  precious  writing  held  in  his  hand. 
That  "  dear  "  was  just  as  if  she  had  spoken — a  voice 
suddenly  heard.  He  thought  of  her  farewell,  clear 
and  sweet,  out  of  the  shadow  of  the  moonlit  house. 

But  why  that  "  If  I  never  write  again,"  and  that 
abrupt  ending?     Of  course  he  would   think  of  her. 

It  was  her  only  letter.  In  a  little  time  its  creases 
were  worn  through. 

Early  in  June  came  a  loneliness  that  suddenly 
changed  into  almost  intolerable  longing  to  see  her. 
He  had  vague  dreams  of  going  to  London,  to  Clap^ 


68  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

ham,  to  find  her.  But  you  do  not  find  people  in 
Clapham  as  you  do  in  Whortley.  He  spent  an  after- 
noon writing  and  re-writing  a  lengthy  letter,  against 
the  day  when  her  address  should  come.  If  it  was 
to  come.  He  prowled  about  the  village  disconso- 
lately, and  at  last  set  off  about  seven  and  retraced 
by  moonlight  almost  every  step  of  that  one  mem- 
orable walk  of  theirs. 

In  the  blackness  of  the  shed  he  worked  himself 
up  to  the  pitch  of  talking  as  if  she  were  present. 
And  he  said  some  fine  brave  things. 

He  found  the  little  old  lady  of  the  wallflowers 
with  a  candle  in  her  window,  and  drank  a  bottle  of 
ginger  beer  with  a  sacramental  air.  The  little  old 
lady  asked  him,  a  trifle  archly,  after  his  sister,  and 
he  promised  to  bring  her  again  some  day.  "  I'll 
certainly  bring  her,"  he  said.  Talking  to  the  little 
old  lady  somehow  blunted  his  sense  of  desolation. 
And  then  home  through  the  white  indistinctness  in 
a  state  of  melancholy  that  became  at  last  so  fine  as 
to  be  almost  pleasurable. 

The  day  after  that  mood  a  new  "  text  "  attracted 
and  perplexed  Mrs.  Munday,  an  inscription  at  once 
mysterious  and  familiar,  and  this  inscription  was  : 

It  was  in  Old  English  lettering  and  evidently 
very  carefully  executed. 

Where  had  she  seen  it  before  ? 


RECKONING  69 

It  quite  dominated  all  the  rest  of  the  room  at 
first,  it  flaunted  like  a  flag  of  triumph  over  "  disci- 
pline "  and  the  time-table  and  the  Schema.  Once 
indeed  it  was  taken  down,  but  the  day  after  it  re- 
appeared. Later  a  list  of  scholastic  vacancies 
partially  obscured  it,  and  some  pencil  memoranda 
were  written  on  the  margin. 

And  when  at  last  the  time  came  for  him  to  pack 
up  and  leave  Whortley,  he  took  it  down  and  used 
it  with  several  other  suitable  papers — the  Schema 
and  the  time-table  were  its  next-door  neighbors — 
to  line  the  bottom  of  the  yellow  box  in  which  he 
packed  his  books  ;  chiefly  books  for  that  matric- 
ulation that  had  now  to  be  postponed. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  CAREER  PREVAILS 

THERE  is  an  interval  of  two  years  and  a  half  and 
the  story  resumes  with  a  much  maturer  Mr.  Lewis- 
ham,  indeed  no  longer  a  youth,  but  a  man,  a  legal 
man,  at  any  rate,  of  one  and  twenty  years.  Its 
scene  is  no  longer  little  Whortley  embedded  among 
its  trees,  ruddy  banks,  parks  and  common  land,  but 
the  grey  spaciousness  of  West  London. 

And  it  does  not  resume  with  Ethel  at  all.  For 
that  promised  second  letter  never  reached  him,  and 
though  he  spent  many  an  afternoon  during  his  first 
few  months  in  London,  wandering  about  Clapham, 
that  arid  waste  of  people,  the  meeting  that  he  longed 
for  never  came.  Until  at  last  after  the  manner  of 
youth,  so  gloriously  recuperative  in  body,  heart,  and 
soul,  he  began  to  forget. 

The  quest  of  a  "  crib  "  had  ended  in  the  unex- 
pected fruition  of  Dunkerley's  blue  paper.  The 
green-blue  certificates  had,  it  seemed,  a  value  be- 
yond mural  decoration,   and  when  Lewisham  was 

already  despairing  of  any  employment  for  the  rest 
70 


THE  CAREER  PREVAILS  71 

of  his  life,  came  a  marvellous  blue  document  from 
the  Education  Department  promising  inconceivable 
things.  He  was  to  go  to  London  and  be  paid  a 
guinea  a  week  for  listening  to  lectures — lectures 
beyond  his  most  ambitious  dreams!  Among  the 
names  that  swam  before  his  eyes  was  Huxley — 
Huxley  and  then  Lockyer  !  What  a  chance  to  get  [ 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  for  three  memorable  years 
the  Career  prevailed  with  him  ? 

You  figure  him  on  his  way  to  the  Normal  School 
of  Science  at  the  opening  of  his  third  year  of  study 
there.  (They  call  the  place  the  Royal  College  of 
Science  in  these  latter  days.)  He  carried  in  his 
right  hand  a  shiny  black  bag,  well  stuffed  with  text- 
books, notes,  and  apparatus  for  the  forthcoming 
session  ;  and  in  his  left  was  a  book  that  the  bag  had 
no  place  for,  a  book  with  gilt  edges,  and  its  binding 
very  carefully  protected  by  a  brown  paper  cover. 

The  lapse  of  time  had  asserted  itself  upon  his 
upper  lip  in  an  inaggressive  but  indisputable  mous- 
tache, in  an  added  inch  or  so  of  stature,  and  in  his 
less  conscious  carriage.  For  he  no  longer  felt  that 
universal  attention  he  believed  in  at  eighteen  ;  it 
was  beginning  to  dawn  on  him  indeed  that  quite 
a  number  of  people  were  entirely  indifferent  to  the 
fact  of  his  existence.  But  if  less  conscious,  his 
carriage  was  decidedly  more  confident — as  of  one 
with  whom  the  world  goes  well. 


72  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

His  costume  was — with  one  exception — a  tem- 
pered black, — mourning  put  to  hard  uses  and, 
"  cutting  up  rusty."  The  mourning  was  for  his 
mother,  who  had  died  more  than  a  year  before  the 
date  when  this  story  resumes,  and  had  left  him 
property  that  capitalized  at  nearly  a  hundred 
pounds,  a  sum  which  Lewisham  hoarded  jealously 
in  the  Savings  Bank,  paying  only  for  such  essentials 
as  university  fees,  and  the  books  and  instruments 
his  brilliant  career  as  a  student  demanded.  For  he 
was  having  a  brilliant  career,  after  all,  in  spite  of 
the  Whortley  check,  licking  up  paper  certificates  in- 
deed like  a  devouring  flame. 

(Surveying  him,  Madam,  your  eye  would  in- 
evitably have  fallen  to  his  collar — curiously  shiny,  a 
surface  like  wet  gum.  Although  it  has  practically 
nothing  to  do  with  this  story,  I  must,  I  know, 
dispose  of  that  before  I  go  on,  or  you  will  be  in- 
attentive. London  has  its  mysteries,  but  this 
strange  gloss  on  his  linen  !  "  Cheap  laundresses 
always  make  your  things  blue,"  protests  the  lady. 
"  It  ought  to  have  been  blue-stained,  generously 
frayed,  and  loose  about  the  button,  fretting  his 
neck.  But  this  gloss  .  .  ."  You  would  have  looked 
nearer,  and  finally  you  would  have  touched — a  char- 
nel  house  surface,  dank  and  cool !  You  see,  Madam, 
the  collar  was  a  patent  waterproof  one.  One  of 
those  you  wash  over  night  with  a  tooth-brush,  and 


THE  CAREER  PREVAILS  73 

hang  on  the  back  of  your  chair  to  dry,  and  there 
you  have  it  next  morning,  rejuvenesced.  It  was 
the  only  collar  he  had  in  the  world,  it  saved  three- 
pence  a  week  at  least,  and  that,  to  ra  South  Ken- 
sington "  science  teacher  in  training, "  living  on  the 
guinea  a  week  allowed  by  a  parental  but  parsi- 
monious government,  is  a  sum  to  consider.  It  had 
come  to  Lewisham  as  a  great  discovery.  He  had 
seen  it  first  in  a  shop  window  full  of  indiarubber 
goods,  and  it  lay  at  the  bottom  of  a  glass  bowl  in 
which  goldfish  drifted  discontentedly  to  and  fro. 
And  he  told  himself  that  he  rather  liked  that  gloss.) 

But  the  wearing  of  a  bright  red  tie  would  have 
been  unexpected — a  bright  red  tie  after  the  fashion 
of  a  South-Western  railway  guard's !  The  rest  of 
him  by  no  means  dandiacal,  even  the  vanity  of 
glasses  long  since  abandoned.  You  would  have 
reflected.  .  .  .  Where  had  you  seen  a  crowd — red 
ties  abundant  and  in  some  way  significant?  The 
truth  has  to  be  told.  Mr.  Lewisham  had  become  a 
Socialist ! 

That  red  tie  was  indeed  but  one  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  much  inward  and  spiritual  develop- 
ment. Lewisham,  in  spite  of  the  demands  of  a 
studious  career,  had  read  his  Butler's  Analogy 
through  by  this  time,  and  some  other  books ;  he 
had  argued,  had  had  doubts,  and  called  upon  God 
for  " Faith "  in  the  silence  of  the  night— "  Faith" 


74  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

to  be  delivered  immediately  if  Mr.  Lewisham's  pat- 
ronage was  valued,  and  which  nevertheless  was  not 
so  delivered.  .  .  .  And  his  conception  of  his  destiny 
in  this  world  was  no  longer  an  avenue  of  examina- 
tions to  a  remote  Bar  and  political  eminence  "in 
the  Liberal  interest  (D.  V.)"  He  had  begun  to 
realise  certain  aspects  of  our  social  order  that 
Whortley  did  not  demonstrate,  begun  to  feel  some- 
thing of  the  dull  stress  deepening  to  absolute 
wretchedness  and  pain,  which  is  the  colour  of  so 
much  human  life  in  modern  London.  One  vivid 
contrast  hung  in  his  mind  symbolical.  On  the  one 
hand  were  the  coalies  of  the  Westbourne  Park 
yards,  on  strike  and  gaunt  and  hungry,  children 
begging  in  the  black  slush,  and  starving  loungers 
outside  a  soup  kitchen ;  and  on  the  other,  West- 
bourne  Grove,  two  streets  further,  a  blazing  array 
of  crowded  shops,  a  stirring  traffic  of  cabs  and  car- 
riages, and  such  a  spate  of  spending  that  a  tired 
student  in  leaky  boots  and  graceless  clothes  hurry- 
ing home  was  continually  impeded  in  the  whirl  of 
skirts  and  parcels  and  sweetly  pretty  womanliness. 
No  doubt  the  tired  student's  own  inglorious  sensa- 
tions pointed  the  moral.  But  that  was  only  one 
of  a  perpetually  recurring  series  of  vivid  appro- 
ximations. 

Lewisham  had  a  strong  persuasion,  an  instinct  it 
may  be,  that  human  beings  should  not  be  happy 


THE  CAREER  PREVAILS  75 

while  others  near  them  were  wretched,  and  this  gay 
glitter  of  prosperity  had  touched  him  with  a  sense 
of  crime.  He  still  believed  people  were  responsible 
for  their  own  lives;  in  those  days  he  had  still  to 
gauge  the  possibilities  of  moral  stupidity  in  himself 
and  his  fellow-men.  He  happened  upon  "  Progress 
and  Poverty  "  just  then,  and  some  casual  numbers 
of  the  "  Commonweal,"  and  it  was  only  too  easy  to 
accept  the  theory  of  cunning  plotting  capitalists 
and  landowners,  and  faultless,  righteous,  martyr 
workers.  He  became  a  Socialist  forthwith.  The 
necessity  to  do  something  at  once  to  manifest  the 
new  faith  that  was  in  him  was  naturally  urgent. 
So  he  went  out  and  (historical  moment)  bought 
that  red  tie ! 

u  Blood  colour,  please,"  said  Lewisham  meekly 
to  the  young  lady  at  the  counter. 

"What  colour?"  said  the  young  lady  at  the 
counter,  sharply. 

"A  bright  scarlet,  please,"  said  Lewisham,  blush- 
ing. And  he  spent  the  best  part  of  the  evening 
and  much  of  his  temper  in  finding  out  how  to  tie 
this  into  a  neat  bow.  It  was  a  plunge  into  novel 
handicraft — for  previously  he  had  been  accustomed 
to  made-up  ties. 

So  it  was  that  Lewisham  proclaimed  the  Social 
Revolution.  The  first  time  that  symbol  went 
abroad  a  string  of  stalwart  policeman  were  walking 


76  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

in  single  file  along  the  Brompton  Road.  In  the 
opposite  direction  marched  Lewisham.  He  began 
to  hum.  He  passed  the  policemen  with  a  signifi- 
cant eye  and  humming  the  Marseillaise.  .  .  . 

But  that  was  months  ago,  and  by  this  time  the 
red  tie  was  a  thing  of  use  and  wont. 

He  turned  out  of  the  Exhibition  Road  through  a 
gateway  of  wrought  iron,  and  entered  the  hall  of 
the  Normal  School.  The  hall  was  crowded  with 
students  carrying  books,  bags,  and  boxes  of  instru- 
ments, students  standing  and  chattering,  students 
reading  the  framed  and  glazed  notices  of  the  De- 
bating Society,  students  buying  note-books,  pencils, 
rubber,  or  drawing  pins  from  the  privileged  stationer. 
There  was  a  strong  representation  of  new  hands, 
the  paying  students,  youths  and  young  men  in 
black  coats  and  silk  hats  or  tweed  suits,  the  scholar 
contingent,  youngsters  of  Lewisham's  class,  raw, 
shabby,  discordant,  grotesquely  ill-dressed  and  awe- 
stricken  ;  one  Lewisham  noticed  with  a  sailor's 
peaked  cap  gold-decorated,  and  one  with  mittens 
and  very  genteel  grey  kid  gloves ;  and  Grummett 
the  perennial  Official  of  the  Books  was  busy  among 
them. 

"  Der  Zozalist  !  "  said  a  wit. 

Lewisham  pretended  not  to  hear  and  blushed 
vividly.  He  often  wished  he  did  not  blush  quite  so 
much,  seeing  he  was  a  man  of  one  and  twenty.     He 


THE  CAREER  PREVAILS  yj 

looked  studiously  away  from  the  Debating  Society 
notice  board,  whereon  "  G.  E.  Lewisham  on  Social- 
ism "  was  announced  for  the  next  Friday,  and 
struggled  through  the  hall  to  where  the  Book  awaited 
his  signature.  Presently  he  was  hailed  by  name, 
and  then  again.  He  could  not  get  to  the  Book  for 
a  minute  or  so,  because  of  the  hand-shaking  and 
clumsy  friendly  jests  of  his  fellow-"  men." 

He  was  pointed  out  to  a  raw  hand,  by  the  raw 
hand's  experienced  fellow-townsman,  as  "  that  beast 
Lewisham — awful  swat.  He  was  second  last  year 
on  the  year's  work.  Frightful  mugger.  But  all 
these  swats  have  a  touch  of  the  beastly  prig. 
Exams — Debating  Society — more  Exams.  Don't 
seem  to  have  ever  heard  of  being  alive.  Never  goes 
near  a  Music  Hall  from  one  year's  end  to  the 
other." 

Lewisham  heard  a  shrill  whistle,  made  a  run  for 
the  lift  and  caught  it  just  on  the  point  of  departure. 
The  lift  was  unlit  and  full  of  black  shadows ;  only 
the  sapper  who  conducted  it  was  distinct.  As  Lew- 
isham peered  doubtfully  at  the  dim  faces  near  him, 
a  girl's  voice  addressed  him  by  name. 

"Is  that  you,  Miss  Heydinger?"  he  answered. 
"  I  didn't  see.  I  hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant 
vacation." 


CHAPTER  IX 

ALICE   HEYDINGER 

WHEN  he  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  building  he 
stood  aside  for  the  only  remaining"  passenger  to  step 
out  before  him.  It  was  the  Miss  Heydinger  who 
had  addressed  him,  the  owner  of  that  gilt-edged 
book  in  the  cover  of  brown  paper.  No  one  else  had 
come  all  the  way  up  from  the  ground  floor.  The 
rest  of  the  load  in  the  lift  had  emerged  at  the  "  as- 
tronomical "  and  "  chemical  "  floors,  but  these  two 
had  both  chosen  "  zoology  "  for  their  third  year  of 
study,  and  zoology  lived  in  the  attics.  She  stepped 
into  the  light,  with  a  rare  touch  of  colour  springing 
to  her  cheeks  in  spite  of  herself.  Lewisham  per- 
ceived an  alteration  in  her  dress.  Perhaps  she  was 
looking  for  and  noticed  the  transitory  surprise  in 
his  face. 

The  previous  session — their  friendship  was  now 

nearly  a  year  old — it  had  never  once  dawned  upon 

him  that  she  could  possibly  be  pretty.     The  chief 

thing  he  had  been  able  to  recall  with   any  definite- 

ness  during  the  vacation  was,  that  her  hair  was  not 
78 


ALICE  HEYDINGER  79 

always  tidy  and  that  even  when  it  chanced  to  be  so, 
she  was  nervous  about  it  ;  she  distrusted  it.  He 
remembered  her  gesture  while  she  talked,  a  patting 
exploration  that  verged  on  the  exasperating.  From 
that  he  went  on  to  remember  that  its  colour  was,  on 
the  whole,  fair,  a  light  brown.  But  he  had  forgotten 
her  mouth,  he  had  failed  to  name  the  colour  of  her 
eyes.  She  wore  glasses,  it  is  true.  And  her  dress 
was  indefinite  in  his  memory — an  amorphous  dingi- 
ness. 

And  yet  he  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  her.  They 
were  not  in  the  same  course,  but  he  had  made  her 
acquaintance  on  the  committee  of  the  school  Debat- 
ing Society.  Lewisham  was  just  then  discovering 
Socialism.  That  had  afforded  a  basis  of  conversa- 
tion— an  incentive  to  intercourse.  She  seemed  to 
find  something  rarely  interesting  in  his  peculiar  view 
of  things,  and,  as  chance  would  have  it,  he  met  her 
accidentally  quite  a  number  of  times,  in  the  corri- 
dors of  the  schools,  in  the  big  Education  Library, 
and  in  the  Art  Museum.  After  a  time  those  meet- 
ings appear  to  have  been  no  longer  accidental. 

Lewisham  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  began  to 
fancy  he  had  conversational  powers.  She  resolved 
to  stir  up  his  ambitions — an  easy  task.  She  thought 
he  had  exceptional  gifts  and  that  she  might  serve 
to  direct  them  ;  she  certainly  developed  his  vanity. 
She  had  matriculated  at  the  London  University  and 


80  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

they  took  the  Intermediate  Examination  in  Science 
together  in  July — she  a  little  unwisely — which 
served,  as  almost  anything  will  serve  in  such  cases, 
as  a  further  link  between  them.  She  failed,  which 
in  no  way  diminished  Lewisham's  regard  for  her. 
On  the  examination  days  they  discoursed  about 
Friendship  in  general,  and  things  like  that,  down  the 
Burlington  Arcade  during  the  lunch  time, — Bur- 
lington Arcade  undisguisedly  amused  by  her  learned 
dinginess  and  his  red  tie — and  among  other  things 
that  were  said  she  reproached  him  for  not  reading 
poetry.  When  they  parted  in  Piccadilly,  after  the 
examination,  they  agreed  to  write,  about  poetry  and 
themselves,  during  the  holidays,  and  then  she  lent 
him,  with  a  touch  of  hesitation,  Rossetti's  poems. 
He  began  to  forget  what  had  at  first  been  very 
evident  to  him,  that  she  was  two  or  three  years 
older  than  he. 

Lewisham  spent  the  vacation  with  an  unsym* 
pathetic  but  kindly  uncle  who  was  a  plumber  and 
builder.  His  uncle  had  a  family  of  six,  the  eldest 
eleven,  and  Lewisham  made  himself  agreeable  and 
instructive.  Moreover  he  worked  hard  for  the  cul- 
minating third  year  of  his  studies  (in  which  he  had 
decided  to  do  great  things)  and  he  learnt  to  ride 
the  Ordinary  Bicycle.  He  also  thought  about  Miss 
Heydinger,  and  she,  it  would  seem,  thought  about 
him. 


ALICE  HEYDINGER  81 

He  argued  on  social  questions  with  his  uncle,  who 
was  a  prominent  local  Conservative.  His  uncle's 
controversial  methods  were  coarse  in  the  extreme. 
Socialists,  he  said,  were  thieves.  The  object  of 
Socialism  was  to  take  away  what  a  man  earned  and 
give  it  to  "a  lot  of  lazy  scoundrels."  Also  rich 
people  were  necessary.  "If  there  weren't  well-off 
people,  how  d'ye  think  I'd  get  a  livin' ?  Hey? 
And  where'd  you  be  then  ?  "  Socialism,  his  uncle 
assured  him,  was  "  got  up  "  by  agitators.  "  They 
get  money  out  of  young  Gabies  like  you,  and  they 
spend  it  in  champagne."  And  thereafter  he  met 
Mr.  Lewisham's  arguments  with  the  word  "  Cham- 
pagne "  uttered  in  an  irritating  voice,  followed  by  a 
luscious  pantomime  of  drinking. 

Naturally  Lewisham  felt  a  little  lonely,  and  per- 
haps he  laid  stress  upon  it  in  his  letters  to  Miss 
Heydinger.  It  came  to  light  that  she  felt  rather 
lonely  too.  They  discussed  the  question  of  True  as 
distinguished  from  Ordinary  Friendship,  and  from 
that  they  passed  to  Goethe  and  Elective  Affinities. 
He  told  her  how  he  looked  for  her  letters,  and  they 
became  more  frequent.  Her  letters  were  indisput- 
ably well  written.  Had  he  been  a  journalist  with  a 
knowledge  of  "per  thou."  he  would  have  known  each 
for  a  day's  work.  After  the  practical  plumber  had 
been  asking  what  he  expected  to  make  by  this  here 

science  of  his,  re-reading  her  letters  was  balsamic. 
6 


82  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

He  liked  Rossetti — the  exquisite  sense  of  separation 
in  "  The  Blessed  Damozel  "  touched  him.  But,  on 
the  whole,  he  was  a  little  surprised  at  Miss  Hey- 
dinger's  taste  in  poetry.  Rossetti  was  so  sensuous 
...  so  florid.  He  had  scarcely  expected  that  sort 
of  thing. 

Altogether  he  had  returned  to  the  schools  de- 
cidedly more  interested  in  her  than  when  they  had 
parted.  And  the  curious  vague  memories  of  her 
appearance  as  something  a  little  frayed  and  careless, 
vanished  at  sight  of  her  emerging  from  the  darkness 
of  the  lift.  Her  hair  was  in  order,  as  the  light 
glanced  through  it  it  looked  even  pretty,  and  she 
wore  a  well-made,  dark-green  and  black  dress,  loose- 
gathered  as  was  the  fashion  in  those  days,  that 
somehow  gave  a  needed  touch  of  warmth  to  her 
face.  Her  hat  too  was  a  change  from  the  careless 
lumpishness  of  last  year,  a  hat  that,  to  a  feminine 
mind,  would  have  indicated  design.  It  suited 
her — these  things  are  past  a  male  novelist's  ex- 
plaining. 

"  I  have  this  book  of  yours,  Miss  Heydinger,"  he 
said. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  written  that  paper  on  Social- 
ism," she  replied,  taking  the  brown-covered  volume. 

They  walked  along  the  little  passage  towards  the 
biological  laboratory  side  by  side,  and  she  stopped 
at  the  hat  pegs  to  remove  her  hat.     For  that  was 


ALICE  HEYDINGER  83 

the  shameless  way  of  the  place,  a  girl  student  had 
to  take  her  hat  off  publicly,  and  publicly  assume 
the  holland  apron  that  was  to  protect  her  in  the 
laboratory.     Not  even  a  looking-glass  ! 

"  I  shall  come  and  hear  your  paper,"  she  said. 

"  I  hope  you  will  like  it,"  said  Lewisham  at  the 
door  of  the  laboratory. 

"  And  in  the  vacation  I  have  been  collecting  evi- 
dence about  ghosts — you  remember  our  arguments. 
Though  I  did  not  tell  you  in  my  letters." 

"  I'm  sorry  you're  still  obdurate,"  said  Lewis- 
ham.     "  I  thought  that  was  over." 

"  And  have  you  read  '  Looking  Backward  '  ?  " 

"  I  want  to." 

"  I  have  it  here  with  my  other  books,  if  you'd 
care  for  me  to  lend  it  to  you.  Wait  till  I  reach  my 
table.     My  hands  are  so  full." 

They  entered  the  laboratory  together,  Lewis- 
ham  holding  the  door  open  courtly-wise,  Miss  Hey- 
dinger  taking  a  reassuring  pat  at  her  hair.  Near 
the  door  was  a  group  of  four  girls,  which  group 
Miss  Heydinger  joined,  holding  the  brown-covered 
book  as  inconspicuously  as  possible.  Three  of  them 
had  been  through  the  previous  two  years  with  her, 
and  they  greeted  her  by  her  Christian  name.  They 
had  previously  exchanged  glances  at  her  appear- 
ance in  Lewisham's  company. 

A  morose  elderly  young  demonstrator  brightened 


84  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

momentarily  at  the  sight  of  Lewisham.  "Well, 
we've  got  one  of  the  decent  ones  anyhow,"  said  the 
morose  elderly  young  demonstrator,  who  was  ap- 
parently taking  an  inventory,  and  then  brightening 
at  a  fresh  entry.    "  Ah  !  and  here's  Smithers," 


CHAPTER  X 

IN  THE  GALLERY  OF  OLD  IRON 

As  one  goes  into  the  South  Kensington  Art 
Museum  from  the  Brompton  Road,  the  Gallery  of 
Old  Iron  is  overhead  to  the  right.  But  the  way 
thither  is  exceedingly  devious  and  not  to  be  revealed 
to  everybody,  since  the  young  people  who  pursue 
science  and  art  thereabouts  set  a  peculiar  value  on 
its  seclusion.  The  gallery  is  long  and  narrow  and 
dark,  and  set  with  iron  gates,  iron-bound  chests, 
locks,  bolts  and  bars,  fantastic  great  keys,  lamps, 
and  the  like,  and  over  the  balustrade  one  may  lean 
and  talk  of  one's  finer  feelings  and  regard  Michael 
Angelo's  horned  Moses,  or  Trajan's  Column  (in 
plaster)  rising  gigantic  out  of  the  hall  below  and 
far  above  the  level  of  the  gallery.  And  here,  on  a 
Wednesday  afternoon,  were  Lewisham  and  Miss 
Heydinger,  the  Wednesday  afternoon  immediately 
following  that  paper  upon  Socialism,  that  you  saw 
announced  on  the  notice  board  in  the  hall. 

The  paper  had  been  an  immense  success,  closely 

reasoned,  delivered  with  a  disciplined  emotion,  the 

85 


86  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

redoubtable  Smithers  practically  converted,  the 
reply  after  the  debate  methodical  and  complete, 
and  it  may  be  there  were  symptoms  of  that  febrile 
affection  known  to  the  vulgar  as  "  swelled  'ed." 
Lewisham  regarded  Moses  and  spoke  of  his  future. 
Miss  Heydinger  for  the  most  part  watched  his  face. 

"  And  then  ?  "  said  Miss  Heydinger. 

"  One  must  bring  these  views  prominently  before 
people.  I  believe  still  in  pamphlets.  I  have 
thought  ..."  Lewisham  paused,  it  is  to  be  hoped 
through  modesty. 

"Yes?"  said  Miss  Heydinger. 

"Well — Luther,  you  know.  There  is  room,  I 
think,  in  Socialism,  for  a  Luther." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Heydinger,  imagining  it.  "  Yes 
— that  would  be  a  grand  way." 

So  it  seemed  to  many  people  in  those  days.  But 
eminent  reformers  have  been  now  for  more  than 
seven  years  going  about  the  walls  of  the  Social 
Jericho,  blowing  their  own  trumpets  and  shouting 
— with  such  small  result  beyond  incidental  displays 
of  ill-temper  within,  that  it  is  hard  to  recover  the 
fine  hopefulness  of  those  departed  days. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Heydinger.  "That  would  be  a 
grand  way." 

Lewisham  appreciated  the  quality  of  personal 
emotion  in  her  voice.  He  turned  his  face  towards 
her,  and  saw  unstinted  admiration  in  her  eyes.     "  It 


IN  THE  GALLERY  OF  OLD  IRON      87 

would  be  a  great  thing  to  do,"  he  said,  and  added, 
quite  modestly,  "if  only  one  could  do  it." 

"  You  could  do  it." 

"You  think  I  could?"  Lewisham  blushed  vividly 
— with  pleasure. 

"  I  do.  Certainly  you  could  set  out  to  do  it. 
Even  to  fail  hopelessly  would  be  Great.  Some- 
times ..." 

She  hesitated.  He  looked  expectation.  "  I 
think  sometimes  it  is  greater  even  to  fail  than  to 
succeed." 

"  I  don't  see  that,"  said  the  proposed  Luther, 
and  his  eyes  went  back  to  the  Moses.  She  was 
about  to  speak  and  changed  her  mind. 

Contemplative  pause. 

"  And  then,  when  a  great  number  of  people  have 
heard  of  your  views  ?  "  she  said  presently. 

"Then  I  suppose  we  must  form  a  party  and  .  .  . 
bring  things  about." 

Another  pause — full,  no  doubt,  of  elevated 
thoughts. 

"  I  say,"  said  Lewisham  quite  suddenly.  "  You 
do  put — well — courage  into  a  chap.  I  shouldn't  have 
done  that  Socialism  paper  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 
He  turned  round  and  stood  leaning  with  his  back 
to  the  Moses,  and  smiling  at  her.  "  You  do  help  a 
fellow,"  he  said. 

That  was  one  of  the  vivid  moments  of  Miss  Hey. 


88  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

dinger's  life.  She  changed  colour  a  little.  "  Do  I  ?  " 
she  said,  standing  straight  and  awkward  and  look- 
ing into  his  face.     "  I'm  .  .  .  glad." 

"  I  haven't  thanked  you  for  your  letters,"  said 
Lewisham.     "  And  I've  been  thinking  ..." 

"Yes?" 

"We're  first-rate  friends,  aren't  we?  The  best  of 
friends.'' 

She  held  out  her  hand  and  drew  a  breath.  "  Yes," 
she  said  as  they  gripped.  He  hesitated  whether  to 
hold  her  hand.  He  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  at 
that  moment  she  would  have  given  three  quarters 
of  the  years  she  had  still  to  live,  to  have  had  eyes 
and  features  that  could  have  expressed  her.  Instead, 
she  felt  her  face  hard,  the  little  muscles  of  her  mouth 
twitching  insubordinate,  and  fancied  that  her  self- 
consciousness  made  her  eyes  dishonest. 

"  What  I  mean,"  said  Lewisham,  "  is — that  this 
will  go  on.  We're  always  going  to  be  friends,  side 
by  side." 

11  Always.  Just  as  I  am  able  to  help  you — I  will 
help  you.     However  I  can  help  you,  I  will." 

"  We  two,"  said  Lewisham  gripping  her  hand. 

Her  face  lit.  Her  eyes  were  for  a  moment  touched 
with  the  beauty  of  simple  emotion.  "  We  two,"  she 
said,  and  her  lips  trembled  and  her  throat  seemed  to 
swell.  She  snatched  her  hand  back  suddenly  and 
turned  her  face  away.     Abruptly  she  walked  towards 


IN  THE  GALLERY  OF  OLD  IRON      89 

the  end  of  the  gallery,  and  he  saw  her  fumbling  for 
her  handkerchief  in  the  folds  of  the  green  and  black 
dress. 

She  was  going  to  cry  ! 

It  set  Lewisham  marvelling — this  totally  inappro- 
priate emotion. 

He  followed  her  and  stood  by  her.  Why  cry? 
He  hoped  no  one  would  come  into  the  little  gallery 
until  her  handkerchief  was  put  away.  Nevertheless 
he  felt  vaguely  flattered.  She  controlled  herself, 
dashed  her  tears  away,  and  smiled  bravely  at  him 
with  reddened  eyes.  "  I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  gulp- 
ing. 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  she  explained. 

"  But  we  will  fight  together.  We  two.  I  can 
help  you.  I  know  I  can  help  you.  And  there  is 
such  Work  to  be  done  in  the  world  !  " 

"You  are  very  good  to  help  me,"  said  Lewisham, 
quoting  a  phrase  from  what  he  had  intended  to  say 
before  he  found  out  that  he  had  a  hold  upon  her 
emotions. 

"No! 

"  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,"  she  said  abruptly, 
"  how  little  a  woman  can  do  alone  in  the  world  ?  " 

"  Or  a  man,"  he  answered  after  a  momentary 
meditation. 

So  it  was  Lewisham  enrolled  his  first  ally  in  the 
cause  of  the  red  tie — of  the  red  tie  and  of  the  Great- 


90  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

ness  that  was  presently  to  come.  His  first  ally  ;  for 
hitherto — save  for  the  indiscretion  of  his  mural  in- 
scriptions— he  had  made  a  secret  of  his  private  ambi- 
tions. In  that  now  half-forgotten  love  affair  at 
Whortley  even,  he  had,  in  spite  of  the  considerable 
degree  of  intimacy  attained,  said  absolutely  nothing 
about  his  Careen 


CHAPTER  XI 

MANIFESTATIONS 

MISS  HEYDINGER  declined  to  disbelieve  in  the 
spirits  of  the  dead,  and  this  led  to  controversy  in 
the  laboratory  over  Tea.  For  the  girl  students, 
being  in  a  majority  that  year,  had  organised  Tea 
between  four  o'clock  and  the  advent  of  the  extin- 
guishing policeman  at  five.  And  the  men  students 
were  occasionally  invited  to  Tea.  But  not  more 
than  two  of  them  at  a  time  really  participated,  be- 
cause there  were  only  two  spare  cups  after  that 
confounded  Simmons  broke  the  third. 

Smithers,  the  square-headed  student  with  the  hard 
grey  eyes,  argued  against  the  spirits  of  the  dead  with 
positive  animosity,  while  Bletherley,  who  displayed 
an  orange  tie  and  lank  hair  in  unshorn  abundance, 
was  vaguely  open-minded.  "  What  is  love  ?  "  asked 
Bletherley,  "  surely  that  at  any  rate  is  immortal !  " 
His  remark  was  considered  irrelevant  and  ignored. 

Lewisham,  as  became  the  most  promising  student 
of  the  year,  weighed  the  evidence — comprehensively 
under  headings.  He  dismissed  the  mediumistic 
stances  as  trickery. 

9* 


92  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Rot  and  imposture,"  said  Smithers  loudly,  and 
with  an  oblique  glance  to  see  if  his  challenge  reached 
its  mark.  Its  mark  was  a  grizzled  little  old  man  with 
a  very  small  face  and  very  big  grey  eyes,  who  had 
been  standing  listlessly  at  one  of  the  laboratory 
windows  until  the  discussion  caught  him.  He  wore 
a  brown  velvet  jacket  and  was  reputed  to  be  enor- 
mously rich.  His  name  was  Lagune.  He  was  not 
a  regular  attendant,  but  one  of  those  casual  out- 
siders who  are  admitted  to  laboratories  that  are  not 
completely  full.  He  was  known  to  be  an  ardent 
spiritualist — it  was  even  said  that  he  had  challenged 
Huxley  to  a  public  discussion  on  materialism,  and 
he  came  to  the  biological  lectures  and  worked  inter- 
mittently, in  order,  he  explained,  to  fight  disbelief 
with  its  own  weapons.  He  rose  greedily  to  Smithers* 
controversial  bait. 

"  I  say  no  !  "  he  said,  calling  down  the  narrow 
laboratory  and  following  his  voice.  He  spoke  with 
the  ghost  of  a  lisp.  "  Pardon  my  interrupting,  sir. 
The  question  interests  me  profoundly.  I  hope  I 
don't  intrude.  Excuse  me,  sir.  Make  it  personal. 
Am  I  a — fool,  or  an  impostor  ?  " 

"  Well,"  parried  Smithers  with  all  a  South  Ken- 
sington student's  want  of  polish,  "  that's  a  bit 
personal." 

"  Assume,  sir,  that  I  am  an  honest  observer." 

"Well?" 


MANIFESTATIONS  93 

"  I  have  seen  spirits,  heard  spirits,  felt  the  touch 
of  spirits."     He  opened  his  pale  eyes  very  widely. 

"  Fool,  then,"  said  Smithers  in  an  undertone 
which  did  not  reach  the  ears  of  the  spiritualist. 

"  You  may  have  been  deceived,"  paraphrased 
Lewisham. 

"  I  can  assure  you  .  .  .  others  can  see,  hear,  feel. 
I  have  tested,  sir.  Tested  !  I  have  some  scientific 
training  and  I  have  employed  tests.  Scientific  and 
exhaustive  tests  !  Every  possible  way.  I  ask  you, 
sir — have  you  given  the  spirits  a  chance?  " 

"  It  is  only  paying  guineas  to  humbugs,"  said 
Smithers. 

0  There  you  are !  Prejudice !  Here  is  a  man 
denies  the  facts  and  consequently  wont  see  them, 
won't  go  near  them." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  have  every  man  in  the  three 
kingdoms,  who  disbelieved  in  spirits,  attend  seances 
before  he  should  be  allowed  to  deny?  " 

"  Most  assuredly  yes.  Most  assuredly  yes  !  He 
knows  nothing  about  it  till  then." 

The  argument  became  heated.  The  little  old 
gentleman  was  soon  under  way.  He  knew  a  person 
of  the  most  extraordinary  gifts,  a  medium  .  .  . 

"  Paid  ?"  asked  Smithers. 

"  Would  you  muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth  out  the 
corn?  "  said  Lagune  promptly. 

Smithers'  derision  was  manifest. 


94  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Would  you  distrust  a  balance  because  you 
bought  it?  Come  and  see."  Lagune  was  now  very 
excited  and  inclined  to  gesticulate  and  raise  his 
voice.  He  invited  the  whole  class  incontinently  to 
a  series  of  special  stances.  "  Not  all  at  once — the 
spirits — new  influences."  But  in  sections.  "  I 
warn  you  we  may  get  nothing.  But  the  chances 
are  ...  I  would  rejoice  infinitely  ..." 

So  it  came  about  that  Lewisham  consented  to 
witness  a  spirit-raising.  Miss  Heydinger  it  was  ar- 
ranged should  be  there,  and  the  sceptic  Smithers, 
Lagune,  his  typewriter  and  the  medium  would  com- 
plete the  party.  Afterwards  there  was  to  be  an- 
other party  for  the  others.  Lewisham  was  glad  he 
had  the  moral  support  of  Smithers.  "  It's  an  even- 
ing wasted,"  said  Smithers,  who  had  gallantly  re- 
solved to  make  the  running  for  Lewisham  in  the 
contest  for  the  Forbes  medal.  "  But  I'll  prove  my 
case.  You  see  if  I  don't."  They  were  given  an 
address  in  Chelsea. 

The  house,  when  Lewisham  found  it  at  last, 
proved  a  large  one  with  such  an  air  of  mellowed 
dignity  that  he  was  abashed.  He  hung  his  hat  up 
for  himself  beside  a  green-trimmed  hat  of  straw  in 
the  wide,  rich-toned  hall.  Through  an  open  door 
he  had  a  glimpse  of  a  palatial  study,  book  shelves 
bearing  white  busts,  a  huge  writing-table  lit  by  a 
green-shaded  electric  lamp  and  covered  thickly  with 


MANIFESTATIONS  95 

papers.  The  housemaid  looked,  he  thought,  with 
infinite  disdain  at  the  rusty  mourning  and  flam, 
boyant  tie,  and  flounced  about  and  led  him  up-stairs. 

She  rapped,  and  there  was  a  discussion  within. 
"  They're  at  it  already,  I  believe,"  she  said  to  Lewis- 
ham  confidentially.     "  Mr.  Lagune's  always  at  it," 

There  were  sounds  of  chairs  being  moved, 
Smithers'  extensive  voice  making  a  suggestion  and 
laughing  nervously.  Lagune  appeared  opening  the 
door.  His  grizzled  face  seemed  smaller  and  his  big 
grey  eyes  larger  than  usual. 

"  We  were  just  going  to  begin  without  you,"  he 
whispered.     "  Come  along." 

The  room  was  furnished  even  more  finely  than 
the  drawing-room  of  the  Whortley  Grammar  School, 
hitherto  the  finest  room  (except  certain  of  the  State 
Apartments  at  Windsor)  known  to  Lewisham.  The 
furniture  struck  him  in  a  general  way  as  akin  to  that 
in  the  South  Kensington  Museum.  His  first  impres- 
sion was  an  appreciation  of  the  vast  social  superiority 
of  the  chairs ;  it  seemed  impertinent  to  think  of  sitting 
on  anything  quite  so  quietly  stately.  He  perceived 
Smithers  standing  with  an  air  of  bashful  hostility 
against  a  bookcase.  Then  he  was  aware  that  Lagune 
was  asking  them  all  to  sit  down.  Already  seated 
at  the  table  was  the  Medium,  Chaffery,  a  benevolent- 
looking,  faintly  shabby  gentleman  with  bushy  iron- 
grey  side-whiskers,  a  wide,  thin-lipped  mouth  tucked 


96  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

in  at  the  corners,  and  a  chin  like  the  toe  of  a  boot. 
He  regarded  Lewisham  critically  and  disconcert- 
ingly over  gilt  glasses.  Miss  Heydinger  was  quite 
at  her  ease  and  began  talking  at  once.  Lewisham's 
replies  were  less  confident  than  they  had  been  in 
the  Gallery  of  Old  Iron  ;  indeed  there  was  almost 
a  reversal  of  their  positions.  She  led  and  he  was 
abashed.  He  felt  obscurely  that  she  had  taken  an 
advantage  of  him.  He  became  aware  of  another 
girlish  figure  in  a  dark  dress  on  his  right. 

Everyone  moved  towards  the  round  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  on  which  lay  a  tambourine  and 
a  little  green  box.  Lagune  developed  unsuspected 
lengths  of  knobby  wrist  and  finger  directing  his 
guests  to  their  seats.  Lewisham  was  to  sit  next  to 
him,  between  him  and  the  Medium  ;  beyond  the 
Medium  sat  Smithers  with  Miss  Heydinger  on  the 
other  side  of  him,  linked  to  Lagune  by  the  type- 
writer. So  sceptics  compassed  the  Medium  about. 
The  company  was  already  seated  before  Lewis- 
ham looked  across  Lagune  and  met  the  eyes  of  the 
girl  next  that  gentleman.  It  was  Ethel !  The 
close  green  dress,  the  absence  of  a  hat,  and  a  cer- 
tain loss  of  colour  made  her  seem  less  familiar,  but 
did  not  prevent  the  instant  recognition.  And  there 
was  recognition  in  her  eyes. 

Immediately  she  looked  away.  At  first  his  only 
emotion  was  surprise.     He  would  have  spoken  but 


MANIFESTATIONS  97 

a  little  thing  robbed  him  of  speech.  For  a  moment 
he  was  unable  to  remember  her  surname.  More- 
over, the  strangeness  of  his  surroundings  made  him 
undecided.  He  did  not  know  what  was  the  proper 
way  to  address  her — and  he  still  kept  to  the  super- 
stition of  etiquette.  Besides — to  speak  to  her 
would  involve  a  general  explanation  to  all  these 
people  .  .  . 

"  Just  leave  a  pin-point  of  gas,  Mr.  Smithers, 
please,"  said  Lagune,  and  suddenly  the  one  surviv- 
ing jet  of  the  gas  chandelier  was  turned  down  and 
they  were  in  darkness.  The  moment  for  recogni- 
tion had  passed. 

The  joining  of  hands  was  punctiliously  verified, 
the  circle  was  linked  little  finger  to  little  finger. 
Lewisham's  abstraction  received  a  rebuke  from 
Smithers.  The  Medium,  speaking  in  an  affable 
voice,  premised  that  he  could  promise  nothing,  he 
had  no  "directing"  power  over  manifestations. 
Thereafter  ensued  a  silence.  .  .  . 

For  a  space  Lewisham  was  inattentive  to  all  that 
happened. 

He  sat  in  the  breathing  darkness,  staring  at  the 
dim  elusive  shape  that  had  presented  that  remem- 
bered face.  His  mind  was  astonishment  mingled 
with  annoyance.  He  had  settled  that  this  girl  was 
lost  to  him  for  ever.     The  spell  of  the  old  days  of 

longing,  of  the  afternoons  that  he  had  spent  after  his 
7 


98  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

arrival  in  London,  wandering  through  Clapham  with 
a  fading  hope  of  meeting  her,  had  not  returned  to 
him.  But  he  was  ashamed  of  his  stupid  silence,  and 
irritated  by  the  awkwardness  of  the  situation.  At 
one  moment  he  was  on  the  very  verge  of  breaking 
the  compact  and  saying  "  Miss  Henderson  "  across 
the  table.  .  .  . 

How  was  it  he  had  forgotten  that  "  Henderson?  " 
He  was  still  young  enough  to  be  surprised  at  for- 
getfulness. 

Smithers  coughed,  one  might  imagine  with  a 
warning  intention. 

Lewisham,  recalling  his  detective  responsibility 
with  an  effort,  peered  about  him,  but  the  room  was 
very  dark.  The  silence  was  broken  ever  and  again 
by  deep  sighs  and  a  restless  stirring  from  the 
Medium.  Out  of  this  mental  confusion  Lewisham's 
personal  vanity  was  first  to  emerge.  What  did  she 
think  of  him  ?  Was  she  peering  at  him  through  the 
darkness  even  as  he  peered  at  her?  Should  he  pre- 
tend to  see  her  for  the  first  time  when  the  lights 
were  restored  ?  As  the  minutes  lengthened  it 
seemed  as  though  the  silence  grew  deeper  and 
deeper.  There  was  no  fire  in  the  room,  and  it 
looked,  for  lack  of  that  glow,  chilly.  A  curious 
scepticism  arose  in  his  mind  as  to  whether  he  had 
actually  seen  Ethel  or  only  mistaken  someone  else 
for  her.     He  wanted  the  stance  over  in  order  that 


MANIFESTATIONS  99 

he  might  look  at  her  again.  The  old  days  at  Whort- 
ley  came  out  of  his  memory  with  astonishing  detail 
and  yet  astonishingly  free  from  emotion.  .  .  . 

He  became  aware  of  a  peculiar  sensation  down 
his  back,  that  he  tried  to  account  for  as  a 
draught.  .  .  . 

Suddenly  a  beam  of  cold  air  came  like  a  touch 
against  his  face,  and  made  him  shudder  convulsively. 
Then  he  hoped  that  she  had  not  marked  his  shud- 
der. He  thought  of  laughing  a  low  laugh  to  show 
he  was  not  afraid.  Someone  else  shuddered  too, 
and  he  perceived  an  extraordinarily  vivid  odour  of 
violets.  Lagune's  finger  communicated  a  nervous 
quivering. 

What  was  happening? 

The  musical  box  somewhere  on  the  table  began 
playing  a  rather  trivial,  rather  plaintive  air  that  was 
strange  to  him.  It  seemed  to  deepen  the  silence 
about  him,  an  accent  on  the  expectant  stillness,  a 
thread  of  tinkling  melody  spanning  an  abyss. 

Lewisham  took  himself  in  hand  at  this  stage. 
What  was  happening?  He  must  attend.  Was  he 
really  watching  as  he  should  do?  He  had  been 
wool-gathering.  There  were  no  such  things  as 
spirits,  mediums  were  humbugs,  and  he  was  here  to 
prove  that  sole  remaining  Gospel.  But  he  must 
keep  up  with  things — he  was  missing  points.  What 
was  that  scent  of  violets  ?     And  who  had  set  the 


100         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

musical  box  going?  The  Medium  of  course  :  but 
how?  He  tried  to  recall  whether  he  had  heard  a 
rustling  or  detected  any  movement  before  the  music 
began.  He  could  not  recollect.  Come  !  he  must 
be  more  on  the  alert  than  this ! 

He  became  acutely  desirous  of  a  successful  ex- 
posure. He  figured  the  dramatic  moment  he  had 
prepared  with  Smithers — Ethel  a  spectator.  He 
peered  suspiciously  into  the  darkness. 

Somebody  shuddered  again,  someone  opposite 
him  this  time.  He  felt  Lagune's  finger  quiver  still 
more  palpably,  and  then  suddenly  the  raps  began, 
abruptly,  all  about  him.  Rap  ! — making  him  start 
violently.  A  swift  percussive  sound,  tap,  rap,  dap, 
under  the  table,  under  the  chair,  in  the  air,  round 
the  cornices.  The  Medium  groaned  again  and  shud- 
dered, and  his  nervous  agitation  passed  sympatheti- 
cally round  the  circle.  The  music  seemed  to  fade 
to  the  vanishing  point  and  grew  louder  again. 

How  was  it  done? 

He  heard  Lagune's  voice  next  him  speaking  with 
a  peculiar  quality  of  breathless  reverence.  "  The 
alphabet  ?  "  he  asked,  "  shall  we — shall  we  use  the 
alphabet  ?  " 

A  forcible  rap  under  the  table. 

"  No  !  "  interpreted  the  voice  of  the  Medium. 

The  raps  were  continued  everywhere. 

Of  course  it  was  trickery.     Lewisham  endeavoured 


MANIFESTATIONS  101 

to  think  what  the  mechanism  was.  He  tried  to  de- 
termine whether  he  really  had  the  Medium's  little 
finger  touching  his.  He  peered  at  the  dark  shape 
next  him.  There  was  a  violent  rapping  far  away 
behind  them  with  an  almost  metallic  resonance. 
Then  the  raps  ceased,  and  over  the  healing  silence 
the  little  jet  of  melody  from  the  musical  box  played 
alone.     And  after  a  moment  that  ceased  also.  .  .  . 

The  stillness  was  profound.  Mr.  Lewisham  was 
now  highly  strung.  Doubts  assailed  him  suddenly, 
and  an  overwhelming  apprehension,  a  sense  of  vast 
occurrences  gathering  above  him.  The  darkness 
was  a  physical  oppression.  .  .  . 

He  started.  Something  had  stirred  on  the  table. 
There  was  the  sharp  ping  of  metal  being  struck.  A 
number  of  little  crepitating  sounds  like  paper  being 
smoothed.  The  sound  of  wind  without  the  move- 
ment of  air.  A  sense  of  a  presence  hovering  over 
the  table. 

The  excitement  of  Lagune  communicated  itself 
in  convulsive  tremblings  ;  the  Medium's  hand  quiv- 
ered. In  the  darkness  on  the  table  something 
faintly  luminous,  a  greenish-white  patch,  stirred 
and  hopped  slowly  among  the  dim  shapes. 

The  object,  whatever  it  was,  hopped  higher,  rose 
slowly  in  the  air,  expanded.  Lewisham's  attention 
followed  this  slavishly.  It  was  ghostly— unaccount- 
able— marvellous.     For  the  moment  he  forgot  even 


102         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Ethel.  Higher  and  higher  this  pallid  luminosity 
rose  overhead,  and  then  he  saw  that  it  was  a  ghostly 
hand  and  arm,  rising,  rising.  Slowly,  deliberately 
it  crossed  the  table,  seemed  to  touch  Lagune,  who 
shivered.  It  moved  slowly  round  and  touched 
Lewisham.     He  gritted  his  teeth. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  touch,  firm  and  yet 
soft,  of  finger-tips.  Almost  simultaneously,  Miss 
Heydinger  cried  out  that  something  was  smoothing 
her  hair,  and  suddenly  the  musical  box  set  off  again 
with  a  reel.  The  faint  oval  of  the  tambourine  rose, 
jangled,  and  Lewisham  heard  it  pat  Smithers  in  the 
face.  It  seemed  to  pass  overhead.  Immediately  a 
table  somewhere  beyond  the  Medium  began  mov- 
ing audibly  on  its  castors. 

It  seemed  impossible  that  the  Medium,  sitting  so 
still  beside  him,  could  be  doing  all  these  things — 
grotesquely  unmeaning  though  they  might  be. 
After  all.  .  .  . 

The  ghostly  hand  was  hovering  almost  directly 
in  front  of  Mr.  LewishanVs  eyes.  It  hung  with  a 
slight  quivering.  Ever  and  again  its  fingers  flapped 
down  and  rose  stiffly  again. 

Noise !  A  loud  noise  it  seemed.  Something 
moving?     What  was  it  he  had  to  do? 

Lewisham  suddenly  missed  the  Medium's  little 
finger.  He  tried  to  recover  it.  He  could  not  find 
fe.     He  caught,  held  and  lost  an  arm.     There  was 


MANIFESTATIONS  103 

an  exclamation.  A  faint  report.  A  curse  close  to 
him  bitten  in  half  by  the  quick  effort  to  suppress  it. 
Tzit!  The  little  pin-point  of  light  flew  up  with  a 
hiss. 

Lewisham,  standing,  saw  a  circle  of  blinking  faces 
turned  to  the  group  of  two  this  sizzling  light  re- 
vealed. Smithers  was  the  chief  figure  of  the  group ; 
he  stood  triumphant,  one  hand  on  the  gas  tap,  the 
other  gripping  the  Medium's  wrist,  and  in  the 
Medium's  hand — the  incriminatory  tambourine. 

"  How's  this,  Lewisham,"  cried  Smithers,  with 
the  shadows  on  his  face  jumping  as  the  gas  flared. 

"  Caught  I  "  said  Lewisham  loudly,  rising  in  his 
place  and  avoiding  Ethel's  eyes. 

"What's  this?"  cried  the  Medium. 

"  Cheating,"  panted  Smithers. 

"  Not  so,"  cried  the  Medium.  "  When  you  turned 
up  the  light  .  .  .  put  my  hand  up  .  .  .  caught 
tambourine  ...  to  save  head." 

"  Mr.  Smithers,"  cried  Lagune.  "  Mr.  Smithers, 
this  is  very  wrong.     This — shock — " 

The  tambourine  fell  noisily  to  the  floor.  The 
Medium's  face  changed,  he  groaned  strangely  and 
staggered  back.  Lagune  cried  out  for  a  glass  of 
water.  Everyone  looked  at  the  man,  expecting 
him  to  fall,  save  Lewisham.  The  thought  of  Ethel 
had  flashed  back  into  his  mind.  He  turned  to  see 
how  she  took  this  exposure  in  which  he  was  such 


104         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

a  prominent  actor.  He  saw  her  leaning  over  the 
table  as  if  to  pick  up  something  that  lay  across  it. 
She  was  not  looking  at  him,  she  was  looking  at  the 
Medium.  Her  face  was  set  and  white.  Then,  as  if 
she  felt  his  glance,  her  eyes  met  his. 

She  started  back,  stood  erect,  facing  him  with  a 
strange  hardness  in  her  eyes. 

In  the  moment  Lewisham  did  not  grasp  the  sit- 
uation. He  wanted  to  show  that  he  was  acting 
upon  equal  terms  with  Smithers  in  the  exposure. 
For  the  moment  her  action  simply  directed  his 
attention  to  the  object  towards  which  she  had  been 
leaning,  a  thing  of  shrivelled  membrane,  a  pneuma- 
tic glove,  lying  on  the  table.  This  was  evidently 
part  of  the  mediumistic  apparatus.  He  pounced 
and  seized  it. 

"  Look ! "  he  said  holding  it  towards  Smithers. 
"  Here  is  more !     What  is  this  ?  " 

He  perceived  that  the  girl  started.  He  saw 
Chaffery,  the  Medium,  look  instantly  over  Smithers* 
shoulders,  saw  his  swift  glance  of  reproach  at  the 
girl.  Abruptly  the  situation  appeared  to  Lewisham  ; 
he  perceived  her  complicity.  And  he  stood,  still  in 
the  attitude  of  triumph,  with  the  evidence  against 
her  in  his  hand  !     But  his  triumph  had  vanished. 

"Ah!"  cried  Smithers,  leaning  across  the  table 
to  secure  it.  "  Good  old  Lewisham !  .  .  .  Now  we» 
have  it.     This  is  better  than  the  tambourine." 


MANIFESTATIONS  105 

His  eyes  shone  with  triumph.  "  Do  you  see,  Mr. 
Lagune?"  said  Smithers.  "The  Medium  held  this 
in  his  teeth  and  blew  it  out.  There's  no  denying 
this.  This  wasn't  falling  on  your  head,  Mr.  Me- 
dium, was  it  ?     This — this  was  the  luminous  hand !  " 


CHAPTER  XII 

LEWISHAM   IS   UNACCOUNTABLE 

That  night,  as  she  went  with  him  to  Chelsea 
station,  Miss  Heydinger  discovered  an  extraordi- 
nary moodiness  in  Lewisham.  She  had  been  vividly 
impressed  by  the  scene  in  which  they  had  just  par- 
ticipated, she  had  for  a  time  believed  in  the  mani- 
festations ;  the  swift  exposure  had  violently  revolu- 
tionised her  ideas.  The  details  of  the  crisis  were  a 
little  confused  in  her  mind.  She  ranked  Lewisham 
with  Smithers  in  the  scientific  triumph  of  the  even- 
ing. On  the  whole  she  felt  elated.  She  had  no  ob- 
jection to  being  confuted  by  Lewisham.  But  she 
was  angry  with  the  Medium.  "  It  is  dreadful,"  she 
said.  "  Living  a  lie  !  How  can  the  world  grow  bet- 
ter, when  sane,  educated  people  use  their  sanity  and 
enlightenment  to  darken  others  ?     It  is  dreadful ! 

"  He  was  a  horrible  man — such  an  oily,  dishonest 

voice.     And  the  girl — I  was  sorry  for  her.     She  must 

have  been  oh  ! — bitterly  ashamed,  or  why  should  she 

have  burst  out  crying  ?     That  did  distress  me.    Fancy 

crying  like  that !     It  was — yes — abandon.     But  what 

can  one  do  ?  " 
1 06 


LEWISHAM  IS  UNACCOUNTABLE     107 

She  paused.  Lewisham  was  walking  along,  look- 
ing straight  before  him,  lost  in  some  grim  argument 
with  himself. 

"  It  makes  me  think  of  Sludge  the  Medium,"  she 
said. 

He  made  no  answer. 

She  glanced  at  him  suddenly.  "  Have  you  read 
Sludge  the  Medium?" 

"  Eigh  ?  "  he  said,  coming  back  out  of  infinity. 
"  What  ?  I  beg  your  pardon.  Sludge,  the  Medium  ? 
I  thought  his  name  was — it  was — Chaffery." 

He  looked  at  her,  clearly  very  anxious  upon  this 
question  of  fact. 

"  But  I  mean  Browning's  "  Sludge."  You  know — 
the  poem." 

"  No — I'm  afraid  I  don't,"  said  Lewbham. 

"  I  must  lend  it  to  you,"  she  said.  "  It's  splendid. 
It  goes  to  the  very  bottom  of  this  business." 

"Does  it?" 

"  It  never  occurred  to  me  before.  But  I  see  the 
point  clearly  now.  If  people,  poor  people,  are 
offered  money  if  phenomena  happen,  it's  too  much. 
They  are  bound  \.o  cheat.  It's  bribery— immorality  !  " 

She  talked  in  panting  little  sentences,  because 
Lewisham  was  walking  in  heedless  big  strides.  "  I 
Wonder  how  much — such  people — could  earn  hon- 
estly." 

Lewisham  slowly  became  aware  of  the  question  at 


108         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWXSHAM 

his  ear.  He  hurried  back  from  infinity.  "  How 
much  they  could  earn  honestly?  I  haven't  the 
slightest  idea." 

He  paused.  "  The  whole  of  this  business  puzzles 
me,"  he  said.     "  I  want  to  think." 

"  It's  frightfully  complex,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  said — a 
little  staggered. 

But  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  station  was  silence. 
They  parted  with  a  hand-clasp  they  took  a  pride  in 
— a  little  perfunctory  so  far  as  Lewisham  was  con- 
cerned on  this  occasion.  She  scrutinised  his  face  as 
the  train  moved  out  of  the  station,  and  tried  to  ac- 
count for  his  mood.  He  was  staring  before  him  at 
unknown  things — as  if  he  had  already  forgotten  her. 

He  wanted  to  think  !  But  two  heads,  she  thought, 
were  better  than  one  in  a  matter  of  opinion.  It 
troubled  her  to  be  so  ignorant  of  his  mental  states. 
"  How  we  are  wrapped  and  swathed  about — soul 
from  soul !  "  she  thought,  staring  out  of  the  window 
at  the  dim  things  flying  by  outside. 

Suddenly  a  fit  of  depression  came  upon  her.  She 
felt  alone — absolutely  alone — in  a  void  world. 

Presently  she  returned  to  external  things.  She 
became  aware  of  two  people  in  the  next  compart- 
ment eyeing  her  critically.  Her  hand  went  patting 
at  her  hair. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LEWISHAM  INSISTS 

Ethel  Henderson  sat  at  her  machine  before 
the  window  of  Mr.  Lagune's  study,  and  stared 
blankly  at  the  greys  and  blues  of  the  November  twi- 
light. Her  face  was  white,  her  eyelids  were  red 
from  recent  weeping,  and  her  hands  lay  motionless 
in  her  lap.  The  door  had  just  slammed  behind 
Lagune. 

"  Heigh-ho  !  "  she  said.  "  I  wish  I  was  dead.  Oh! 
I  wish  I  was  out  of  it  all." 

She  became  passive  again.  "  I  wonder  what  I 
have  done/'  she  said,  "that  I  should  be  punished 
like  this." 

She  certainly  looked  anything  but  a  Fate-haunted 
soul,  being  indeed  visibly  and  immediately  a  very 
pretty  girl.  Her  head  was  shapely  and  covered  with 
curly  dark  hair,  and  the  eyebrows  above  her  hazel 
eyes  were  clear  and  dark.  Her  lips  were  finely 
shaped,  her  mouth  was  not  too  small  to  be  expres- 
sive, her  chin  small,  and  her  neck  white  and  full  and 

pretty.     There  is  no   need  to  lay  stress  upon  her 

109 


no         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

nose — it  sufficed.  She  was  of  a  mediocre  height, 
sturdy  rather  than  slender,  and  her  dress  was  of  a 
pleasant,  golden-brown  material  with  the  easy  sleeves 
and  graceful  line  of  those  aesthetic  days.  And  she 
sat  at  her  typewriter  and  wished  she  was  dead  and 
wondered  what  she  had  done. 

The  room  was  lined  with  bookshelves  and  con- 
spicuous therein  were  a  long  row  of  foolish  pre- 
tentious volumes,  the  "works"  of  Lagune  —  the 
witless,  meandering  imitation  of  philosophy  that  oc- 
cupied his  life.  Along  the  cornices  were  busts  of 
Plato,  Socrates  and  Newton.  Behind  Ethel  was  the 
great  man's  desk  with  its  green-shaded  electric  light, 
and  littered  with  proofs  and  copies  of  Hesperus,  "  A 
Paper  for  Doubters,"  which,  with  her  assistance,  he 
edited,  published,  compiled,  wrote,  and  (without  her 
help)  paid  for  and  read.  A  pen,  flung  down  forci- 
bly, quivered  erect  with  its  one  surviving  nib  in  the 
blotting  pad.     Mr.  Lagune  had  flung  it  down. 

The  collapse  of  the  previous  night  had  distressed 
him  dreadfully,  and  ever  and  again  before  his  retreat 
he  had  been  breaking  into  passionate  monologue. 
The  ruin  of  a  life-work,  it  was,  no  less.  Surely  she 
had  known  that  Chaffery  was  a  cheat.  Had  she  not 
known  ?     Silence.     "  After  so   many  kindnesses — " 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  wailing  "  Oh,  I  know 
^1  know." 

But  Lagune  was  remorseless  and  insisted  she  had 


LEWISHAM  INSISTS.  in 

betrayed  him,  worse — made  him  ridiculous  !  Look 
at  the  "  work  "  he  had  undertaken  at  South  Kensing- 
ton— how  could  he  go  on  with  that  now?  How 
could  he  find  the  heart  ?  When  his  own  typewriter 
sacrificed  him  to  her  stepfather's  trickery  ?  "  Trick- 
ery !  " 

The  gesticulating  hands  became  active,  the  grey 
eyes  dilated  with  indignation,  the  piping  voice 
eloquent. 

"  If  he  hadn't  cheated  you,  someone  else  would," 
was  Ethel's  inadequate  muttered  retort,  unheard  by 
the  seeker  after  phenomena. 

It  was  perhaps  not  so  bad  as  dismissal,  but  it  cer- 
tainly lasted  longer.  And  at  home  was  Chaffery, 
grimly  malignant  at  her  failure  to  secure  that  pneu- 
matic glove.  He  had  no  right  to  blame  her,  he 
really  had  not ;  but  a  disturbed  temper  is  apt  to  fal- 
sify the  scales  of  justice.  The  tambourine,  he  in- 
sisted he  could  have  explained  by  saying  he  put  up 
his  hand  to  catch  it  and  protect  his  head  directly 
Smithers  moved.  But  the  pneumatic  glove  there 
was  no  explaining.  He  had  made  a  chance  for  her 
to  secure  it  when  he  had  pretended  to  faint.  It  was 
rubbish  to  say  anyone  could  have  been  looking  on 
the  table  then — rubbish. 

Beside  that  significant  wreck  of  a  pen  stood  a  little 
carriage  clock  in  a  case,  and  this  suddenly  lifted  a 
slender  voice  and  announced ^/for.     She  turned  round 


U2         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

on  her  stool  and  sat  staring  at  the  clock.  She 
smiled  with  the  corners  of  her  mouth  down. 
"  Home,"  she  said,  "  and  begin  again.  It's  like  bat- 
tledore and  shuttlecock.  .  .  . 

"  I  was  silly.  .  .  . 

"  I  suppose  I've  brought  it  on  myself.  I  ought 
to  have  picked  it  up,  I  suppose.     I  had  time.  .  .  . 

"  Cheats  .  .  .  just  cheats. 

"  I  never  thought  I  should  see  him  again.  .  .  . 

"  He  was  ashamed,  of  course.  .  .  He  had  his  own 
friends." 

For  a  space  she  sat  still,  staring  blankly  before 
her.  She  sighed,  rubbed  a  knuckle  in  a  reddened 
eye,  rose. 

She  went  into  the  hall  where  her  hat,  transfixed  by 
a  couple  of  hat  pins,  hung  above  her  jacket,  assumed 
these  garments,  and  let  herself  out  into  the  cold  grey 
street. 

She  had  hardly  gone  twenty  yards  from  Lagune's 
door  before  she  became  aware  of  a  man  overtaking 
her  and  walking  beside  her.  That  kind  of  thing  is  a 
common  enough  experience  to  girls  who  go  to  and 
from  work  in  London,  and  she  had  had  perforce  to 
learn  many  things  since  her  adventurous  Whortley 
days.  She  looked  stiffly  in  front  of  her.  The  man 
deliberately  got  in  her  way  so  that  she  had  to  stop. 
She  lifted  eyes  of  indignant  protest.  It  was  Lewis- 
ham — and  his  face  was  white. 


LEWISHAM  INSISTS  113 

He  hesitated  awkwardly  and  then  in  silence  held 
out  his  hand.  She  took  it  mechanically.  He  found 
his  voice.     "  Miss  Henderson,"  he  said. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  she  asked  faintly. 

11 1  don't  know,"  he  said.  .  .  .  "  I  want  to  talk  to 

it 

you. 

"  Yes?  "     Her  heart  was  beating  fast. 

He  found  the  thing  unexpectedly  difficult. 

"  May  I — ?  Are  you  expecting  —  ?  Have  you 
far  to  go  ?  I  would  like  to  talk  to  you.  There  is  a 
lot  .  .  .  " 

"  I  walk  to  Clapham,"  she  said.  "  If  you  care 
...  to  come  part  of  the  way  ..." 

She  moved  awkwardly.  Lewisham  took  his  place 
at  her  side.  They  walked  side  by  side  for  a  mo- 
ment, their  manner  constrained,  having  so  much 
to  say  that  they  could  not  find  a  word  to  begin 
upon. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  Whortley  ?  "  he  asked  ab- 
ruptly. 

"No." 

He  glanced  at  her ;  her  face  was  downcast.  "  Why 
did  you  never  write  ?  "  he  asked  bitterly. 

"  I  wrote." 

"  Again,  I  mean." 

"I  did— in  July." 

"  I  never  had  it." 

"  It  came  back." 
8 


114         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  But  Mrs.  Munday  ..." 

"I  had  forgotten  her  name.  I  sent  it  to  the 
Grammar  School." 

Levvisham  suppressed  an  exclamation. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said. 

They  went  on  again  in  silence.  "  Last  night," 
said  Lewisham  at  length.  "  I  have  no  business  to 
ask.     But  —  " 

She  took  a  long  breath.  "  Mr.  Lewisham,"  she 
said.  "  That  man  you  saw — the  Medium — was  my 
stepfather." 

"  Well  ?  " 

"Isn't  that  enough?" 

Lewisham  paused.     "  No,"  he  said. 

There  was  another  constrained  silence.  "  No," 
he  said  less  dubiously.  "  I  don't  care  a  rap  what 
your  stepfather  is.     Were  you  cheating  ?  " 

Her  face  turned  white.  Her  mouth  opened  and 
closed.  "  Mr.  Lewisham,"  she  said  deliberately, 
"  you  may  not  believe  it,  it  may  sound  impossible, 
but  on  my  honour  ...  I  did  not  know — I  did  not 
know  for  certain,  that  is — that  my  stepfather  ..." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Lewisham,  leaping  at  conviction. 
"  Then  I  was  right  ..." 

For  a  moment  she  stared  at  him,  and  then,  "  I  did 
know,"  she  said,  suddenly  beginning  to  cry.  "  How 
can  I  tell  you  ?  It  is  a  lie.  I  did  know.  I  did 
know  all  the  time." 


LEWISHAM  INSISTS  115 

He  stared  at  her  in  white  astonishment.  He  fell 
behind  her  one  step,  and  then  in  a  stride  came  level 
again.  Then,  a  silence,  a  silence  that  seemed  it 
would  never  end.  She  had  stopped  crying,  she  was 
one  huge  suspense,  not  daring  even  to  look  at  his 
face.     And  at  last  he  spoke. 

"  No,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  don't  mind  even  that. 
I  don't  care — even  if  it  was  that." 

Abruptly  they  turned  into  the  King's  Road,  with 
its  roar  of  wheeled  traffic  and  hurrying  foot-passen- 
gers, and  forthwith  a  crowd  of  boys  with  a  broken- 
spirited  Guy  involved  and  separated  them.  In  a 
busy  highway  of  a  night  one  must  needs  talk  dis- 
connectedly in  shouted  snatches  or  else  hold  one's 
peace.  He  glanced  at  her  face  and  saw  that  it  was 
set  again.  Presently  she  turned  southward  out  of 
the  tumult  into  a  street  of  darkness  and  warm  blinds, 
and  they  could  go  on  talking  again. 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean,"  said  Lewisham. 
"  I  know  I  do.  You  knew  but  you  did  not  want  to 
know.     It  was  like  that." 

But  her  mind  had  been  active.  "  At  the  end  of 
this  road,"  she  said,  gulping  a  sob,  "you  must  go 
back.  It  was  kind  of  you  to  come,  Mr.  Lewisham. 
But  you  were  ashamed — you  are  sure  to  be  ashamed. 
My  employer  is  a  spiritualist,  and  my  stepfather  is 
a  professional  Medium,  and  my  mother  is  a  spiritual- 
ist.    You  were  quite  right  not  to  speak  to  me  last 


u6         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

night.  Quite.  It  was  kind  of  you  to  come,  but  you 
must  go  back.  Life  is  hard  enough  as  it  is  .  .  . 
You  must  go  back  at  the  end  of  the  road.  Go  back 
at  the  end  of  the  road  ..." 

Lewisham  made  no  reply  for  a  hundred  yards. 
"  I'm  coming  on  to  Clapham,"  he  said. 

They  came  to  the  end  of  the  road  in  silence.  Then 
at  the  kerb  corner  she  turned  and  faced  him.  "  Go 
back/'  she  whispered. 

"  No,"  he  said  obstinately,  and  they  stood  face  to 
face  at  the  cardinal  point  of  their  lives. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  Lewisham.  "  It  is  hard  to 
say  what  I  feel.  I  don't  know  myself.  .  .  .  But  I'm 
not  going  to  lose  you  like  this.  I'm  not  going  to  let 
you  slip  a  second  time.  I  was  awake  about  it  all 
last  night.  I  don't  care  where  you  are,  what  your 
people  are,  nor  very  much  whether  you've  kept  quite 
clear  of  this  medium  humbug.  I  don't.  You  will  in 
future.  Anyhow.  I've  had  a  day  and  night  to 
think  it  over.  I  had  to  come  and  try  to  find  you. 
It's  you.  I've  never  forgotten  you.  Never.  I'm 
not  going  to  be  sent  back  like  this." 

"  It  can  be  no  good  for  either  of  us,"  she  said  as 
resolute  as  he. 

"  I  shan't  leave  you." 

"But  what  is  the  good?  .  .  ." 

"  I'm  coming,"  said  Lewisham,  dogmatically. 

And  he  came. 


LEWISHAM  INSISTS  117 

He  asked  her  a  question  point  blank  and  she 
would  not  answer  him,  and  for  some  way  they 
walked  in  grim  silence.  Presently  she  spoke  with  a 
twitching  mouth.  "  I  wish  you  would  leave  me," 
she  said.  "You  are  quite  different  from  what  I 
am.  You  felt  that  last  night.  You  helped  find  us 
out.  ..." 

"  When  first  I  came  to  London  I  used  to  wander 
about  Clapham  looking  for  you,"  said  Lewisham, 
"  week  after  week." 

They  had  crossed  the  bridge  and  were  in  a  narrow 
little  street  of  shabby  shops  near  Clapham  Junction 
before  they  talked  again.  She  kept  her  face  averted 
and  expressionless. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Lewisham,  with  a  sort  of  stiff 
civility,  "  if  I  seem  to  be  forcing  myself  upon  you. 
I  don't  want  to  pry  into  your  affairs — if  you  don't 
wish  me  to.  The  sight  of  you  has  somehow  brought 
back  a  lot  of  things.  ...  I  can't  explain  it.  Per- 
haps— I  had  to  come  to  find  you — I  kept  on  think- 
ing of  your  face,  of  how  you  used  to  smile,  how  you 
jumped  from  the  gate  by  the  lock,  and  how  we  had 
tea  ...  a  lot  of  things. 

He  stopped  again. 

"A  lot  of  things." 

"  If  I  may  come,"  he  said,  and  went  unanswered. 
They  crossed  the  wide  streets  by  the  Junction  and 
went  on  towards  the  Common. 


n8         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  I  live  down  this  road,"  she  said  stopping  ab- 
ruptly at  a  corner.     "  I  would  rather  .  .  . " 

"  But  I  have  said  nothing." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  face  white,  unable  to 
speak  for  a  space.  "  It  can  do  no  good,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  mixed  up  with  this.  ..." 

She  stopped. 

He  spoke  deliberately.  "  I  shall  come,"  he  said, 
"  to-morrow  night." 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  But  I  shall  come." 

"  No,"  she  whispered. 

"  I  shall  come."  She  could  hide  the  gladness  of 
her  heart  from  herself  no  longer.  She  was  fright- 
ened that  he  had  come,  but  she  was  glad  and  she 
knew  he  knew  that  she  was  glad.  She  made  no 
further  protest.  She  held  out  her  hand  dumbly. 
And  on  the  morrow  she  found  him  awaiting  her 
even  as  he  had  said. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MR.   LAGUNE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

FOR  three  days  the  Laboratory  at  South  Kensing. 
ton  saw  nothing  of  Lagune,  and  then  he  came  back 
more  invincibly  voluble  than  ever.  Every  one  had 
expected  him  to  return  apostate,  but  he  brought 
back  an  invigorated  faith,  a  propaganda  unashamed. 
From  some  source  he  had  derived  strength  and  con- 
viction afresh.  Even  the  rhetorical  Smithers  availed 
nothing.  There  was  a  joined  battle  over  the  insuf- 
ficient tea-cups,  and  the  elderly  young  assistant  de- 
monstrator hovered  on  the  verge  of  the  discussion, 
rejoicing,  it  is  supposed,  over  the  entanglements  of 
Smithers.  For  at  the  outset  Smithers  displayed  an 
overweening  confidence  and  civility,  and  at  the  end 
his  ears  were  red  and  his  finer  manners  lost  to  him. 

Lewisham,  it  was  remarked  by  Miss  Heydinger, 
made  but  a  poor  figure  in  this  discussion.  Once  or 
twice  he  seemed  about  to  address  Lagune,  and 
thought  better  of  it  with  the  words  upon  his  lips. 

Lagune's  treatment  of  the  exposure  was  light  and 
vigorous.  "  The  man  Chaffery,"  he  said,  "  has 
made  a  clean  breast  of  it.     His  point  of  view —  w 

"9 


120  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Facts  are  facts,"  said  Smithers. 

"  A  fact  is  a  synthesis  of  impressions,"  said  La- 
gune ;  "  but  that  you  will  learn  when  you  are  older. 
The  thing  is  that  we  were  at  cross  purposes.  I 
told  Chaffery  you  were  beginners.  He  treated  you 
as  beginners — arranged  a  demonstration." 

"  It  was  a  demonstration,"  said  Smithers. 

"  Precisely.  If  it  had  not  been  for  your  interrup- 
tions ..." 

"  Ah !  " 

"  He  forged  elementary  effects  ..." 

"You  can't  but  admit  that." 

"  I  don't  attempt  to  deny  it.  But,  as  he  explained 
— the  thing  is  necessary — justifiable.  Psychic  phe- 
nomena are  subtle,  a  certain  training  of  the  observa- 
tion is  necessary.  A  medium  is  a  more  subtle  in- 
strument than  a  balance  or  a  borax  bead,  and  see 
how  long  it  is  before  you  can  get  assured  results 
with  a  borax  bead  !  In  the  elementary  class,  in  the 
introductory  phase,  conditions  are  too  crude.  ..." 

"  For  honesty." 

"  Wait  a  moment.  Is  it  dishonest — rigging  a  dem- 
onstration ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  is." 

"  Your  professors  do  it." 

"  I  deny  that  in  toto,"  said  Smithers,  and  repeated 
with  satisfaction,  "  in  toto." 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Lagune,  "  because  I  have 


MR.  LAGUNE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW     121 

the  facts.  Your  chemical  lecturers — you  may  go 
downstairs  now  and  ask,  if  you  disbelieve  me — al- 
ways cheat  over  the  indestructibility  of  matter  ex- 
periment— always.  And  then  another — a  physiog- 
raphy thing.  You  know  the  experiment  I  mean  ? 
To  demonstrate  the  existence  of  the  earth's  rotation. 
They  use — they  use —  " 

"  Foucault's  pendulum,"  said  Lewisham.  "  They 
use  a  rubber  ball  with  a  pin-hole  hidden  in  the  hand, 
and  blow  the  pendulum  round  the  way  it  ought  to 

go." 

"  But  that's  different,"  said  Smithers. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Lagune,  and  produced  a 
piece  of  folded  printed  paper  from  his  pocket. 
"  Here  is  a  review  from  Nature  of  the  work  of  no 
less  a  person  than  Professor  Greenhill.  And  see — 
a  convenient  pin  is  introduced  in  the  apparatus  for 
the  demonstration  of  virtual  velocities  !  Read  it — 
if  you  doubt  me.     I  suppose  you  doubt  me." 

Smithers  abruptly  abandoned  his  position  of  de- 
nial "in  toto."  "This  isn't  my  point,  Mr.  Lagune; 
this  isn't  my  point,"  he  said.  "  These  things  that 
are  done  in  the  lecture  theatre  are  not  to  prove 
facts,  but  to  give  ideas." 

"  So  was  my  demonstration,"  said  Lagune. 

"  We  didn't  understand  it  in  that  light." 

"  Nor  does  the  ordinary  person  who  goes  to 
Science  lectures  understand  it  in  that  light.     He  is 


122  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

comforted  by  the  thought  that  he  is  seeing  things 
with  his  own  eyes." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,"  said  Smithers ;  "  two  wrongs 
don't  make  a  right.  To  rig  demonstrations  is 
wrong." 

"  There  I  agree  with  you.  I  have  spoken  plainly 
with  this  man  Chaffery.  He's  not  a  full-blown  pro- 
fessor, you  know,  a  highly  salaried  ornament  of  the 
rock  of  truth  like  your  demonstration-rigging  pro- 
fessors here,  and  so  I  can  speak  plainly  to  him  with- 
out offence.  He  takes  quite  the  view  they  would 
take.  But  I  am  more  rigorous.  I  insist  that  there 
shall  be  no  more  of  this.  .  .  ." 

"  Next  time — "  said  Smithers  with  irony. 

"  There  will  be  no  next  time.  I  have  done  with 
elementary  exhibitions.  You  must  take  the  word  of 
the  trained  observer — just  as  you  do  in  the  matter 
of  chemical  analysis." 

"  Do  you  mean  you  are  going  on  with  that  chap 
when  he's  been   caught  cheating  under  your  very 

"  Certainly.     Why  not  ?  " 

Smithers  set  out  to  explain  why  not,  and  hap- 
pened on  confusion.  "  I  still  believe  the  man  has 
powers,"  said  Lagune. 

"  Of  deception,"  said  Smithers. 

"  Those  I  must  eliminate,"  said  Lagune.  "  You 
might  as  well  refuse  to  study  electricity  because  it 


MR.  LAGUNE'S  POINT  OF  VIEW     123 

escaped  through  your  body.  All  new  science  is 
elusive.  No  investigator  in  his  senses  would  refuse 
to  investigate  a  compound  because  it  did  unexpected 
things.  Either  this  dissolves  in  acid  or  I  have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  it — eh  ?     That's  fine  research  !  " 

Then  it  was  the  last  vestiges  of  Smithers'  manners 
vanished.  "  I  don't  care  what  you  say,"  said  Smith- 
ers. "  It's  all  rot — it's  all  just  rot.  Argue  if  you 
like — but  have  you  convinced  anybody  ?  Put  it  to 
the  vote  ?  " 

"  That's  democracy  with  a  vengeance,"  said  La- 
gune.  "  A  general  election  of  the  truth  half-yearly, 
eh?" 

"  That's  simply  wriggling  out  of  it,"  said  Smiths 
ers.     "  That  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  it  at  all." 

Lagune,  flushed  but  cheerful  was  on  his  way  down- 
stairs when  Lewisham  overtook  him.  He  was  pale 
and  out  of  breath,  but  as  the  staircase  invariably 
rendered  Lagune  breathless  he  did  not  remark  the 
younger  man's  disturbance.  "  Interesting  talk," 
panted  Lewisham.     "  Very  interesting  talk,  sir." 

11  I'm  glad  you  found  it  so — very,"  said  Lagune. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Lewisham  plunged 
desperately.  °  There  is  a  young  lady — she  is  your 
typewriter.  .  .  ." 

He  stopped  from  sheer  loss  of  breath. 

"Yes?"  said  Lagune. 

"  Is  she  a  medium  or  anything  of  that  sort?  " 


124         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Well,"  Lagune  reflected.  "  She  is  not  a  me- 
dium,  certainly.     But — why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  ...  I  wondered." 

"  You  noticed  her  eyes,  perhaps.  She  is  the  step- 
daughter of  that  man  Chaffery — a  queer  character 
but  indisputably  mediumistic.  It's  odd  the  thing 
should  have  struck  you.  Curiously  enough  I  myself 
have  fancied  she  might  be  something  of  a  psychic — 
judging  from  her  face." 

"  A  what  ?  " 

"  A  psychic — undeveloped  of  course.  I  have 
thought  once  or  twice.  Only  a  little  while  ago  I 
was  speaking  to  that  man  Chaffery  about  her." 

"  Were  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  of  course  would  like  to  see  any  latent 
powers  developed.  But  it's  a  little  difficult  to  begin, 
you  know." 

"  You  mean — she  won't  ?  " 

"  Not  at  present.  She  is  a  good  girl,  but  in  this 
matter  she  is — timid.  There  is  often  a  sort  of  dis- 
inclination— a  queer  sort  of  feeling — one  might  al- 
most call  it  modesty." 

"  I  see,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  One  can  override  it  usually.     I  don't  despair." 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham  shortly.  They  were  at  the 
foot  of  the  staircase  now.  He  hesitated.  "  You've 
given  me  a  lot  to  think  about,"  he  said  with  an  at- 
tempt at  an  offhand  manner.     "  The  way  you  talked 


MR.  LAGUNES  POINT  OF  VIEW     125 

upstairs ; "  and  turned  towards  the  book  he  had  to 
sign. 

"  I'm  glad  you  don't  take  up  quite  such  an  intol- 
erant attitude  as  Mr.  Smithers,"  said  Lagune  ;  "  very 
glad.  I  must  lend  you  a  book  or  two.  If  your 
cramming  here  leaves  you  any  time,  that  is." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Lewisham  shortly,  and  walked 
away  from  him.  The  studiously  characteristic  sig- 
nature quivered  and  sprawled  in  an  unfamiliar 
manner. 

"  I'm  damned  if  he  overrides  it,"  said  Lewisham, 
under  his  breath. 


CHAPTER  XV 

LOVE   IN  THE   STREETS 

LEWISHAM  was  not  quite  clear  what  course  he 
meant  to  take  in  the  high  enterprise  of  foiling 
Lagune,  and  indeed  he  was  anything  but  clear  about 
the  entire  situation.  His  logical  processes,  his  emo- 
tions and  his  imagination  seemed  playing  some  sort 
of  snatching  game  with  his  will.  Enormous  things 
hung  imminent,  but  it  worked  out  to  this,  that  he 
walked  home  with  Ethel  night  after  night  for — to  be 
exact — seven  and  sixty  nights.  Every  week  night 
through  November  and  December,  save  once,  when 
he  had  to  go  into  the  far  East  to  buy  himself  an 
overcoat,  he  was  waiting  to  walk  with  her  home. 
A  curious,  inconclusive  affair,  that  walk,  to  which  he 
came  nightly  full  of  vague  longings  and  which  ended 
invariably  under  an  odd  shadow  of  disappointment. 
It  began  outside  Lagune's  most  punctually  at  five, 
and  ended — mysteriously — at  the  corner  of  a  side 
road  in  Clapham,  a  road  of  little  yellow  houses  with 
sunk  basements  and  tawdry  decorations  of  stone. 

Up  that  road  she  vanished  night  after  night,  into  a 
126 


LOVE  IN  THE  STREETS  127 

grey  mist  and  the  shadow  beyond  a  feeble  yellow 
gas-lamp,  and  he  would  watch  her  vanish,  and  then 
sigh  and  turn  back  towards  his  lodgings. 

They  talked  of  this  and  that,  their  little  superficial 
ideas  about  themselves,  and  of  their  circumstances 
and  tastes,  and  always  there  was  something,  some- 
thing that  was  with  them  unspoken,  unacknowledged, 
which  made  all  these  things  unreal  and  insincere. 

Yet  out  of  their  talk  he  began  to  form  vague  ideas 
of  the  home  from  which  she  came.  There  was,  of 
course,  no  servant,  and  the  mother  was  something 
meandering,  furtive,  tearful  in  the  face  of  troubles. 
Sometimes  of  an  afternoon  or  evening  she  grew 
garrulous.  "  Mother  does  talk  so — sometimes." 
She  rarely  went  out  of  doors.  Chaffery  always  rose 
late,  and  would  sometimes  go  away  for  days  together. 
He  was  mean,  he  allowed  only  a  weekly  twenty-five 
shillings  for  housekeeping  and  sometimes  things 
grew  unsatisfactory  at  the  week-end.  There  seemed 
to  be  little  sympathy  between  mother  and  daughter ; 
the  widow  had  been  flighty  in  a  dingy  fashion,  and 
her  marriage  with  her  chief  lodger  Chaffery  had  led 
to  unforgettable  sayings.  It  was  to  facilitate  this 
marriage  that  Ethel  had  been  sent  to  Whortley,  so 
that  was  counted  a  mitigated  evil.  But  these  were 
far-off  things,  remote  and  unreal  down  the  long,  ill- 
lit  vista  of  the  suburban  street  which  swallowed  up 
Ethel  nightly.     The  walk,  her  warmth  and  light  and 


128         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

motion  close  to  him,  her  clear  little  voice,  and  the 
touch  of  her  hand  ;  that  was  reality. 

The  shadow  of  Chaffery  and  his  deceptions  lay 
indeed  across  all  these  things,  sometimes  faint,  some- 
times dark  and  present.  Then  Lewisham  became 
insistent,  his  sentimental  memories  ceased,  and  he 
asked  questions  that  verged  on  gulfs  of  doubt.  Had 
she  ever  "helped"?  She  had  not,  she  declared. 
Then  she  added  that  twice  at  home  she  had  "  sat 
down "  to  complete  the  circle.  She  would  never 
help  again.  That  she  promised — if  it  needed  prom- 
ising. There  had  already  been  dreadful  trouble  at 
home  about  the  exposure  at  Lagune's.  Her  mother 
had  sided  with  her  stepfather  and  joined  in  blaming 
her.     But  was  she  to  blame? 

"  Of  course  you  were  not  to  blame,"  said  Lewis- 
ham. 

Lagune,  he  learnt,  had  been  unhappy  and  restless 
for  the  three  days  after  the  seance — indulging  in 
wearisome  monologue — with  Ethel  as  sole  auditor 
(at  twenty-one  shillings  a  week).  Then  he  had  de- 
cided to  give  Chaffery  a  sound  lecture  on  his  disas- 
trous dishonesty.  But  it  was  Chaffery  gave  the  lec- 
ture. Smithers,  had  he  only  known  it,  had  been 
overthrown  by  a  better  brain  than  Lagune's,  albeit 
it  spoke  through  Lagune's  treble. 

Ethel  did  not  like  talking  of  Chaffery  and  these 
other  things.     "  If  you  knew  how  sweet  it  was  to 


LOVE  IN  THE  STREETS  129 

forget  it  all,"  she  would  say  ;  "  to  be  just  us  two 
together  for  a  little  while."  And,  "  What  good  does 
it  do  to  keep  on?"  when  Lewisham  was  pressing. 
Lewisham  wanted  very  much  to  keep  on  at  times, 
but  the  good  of  it  was  a  little  hard  to  demonstrate. 
So  his  knowledge  of  the  situation  remained  imper- 
fect and  the  weeks  drifted  by. 

Wonderfully  varied  were  those  seven  and  sixty 
nights,  as  he  came  to  remember  in  after  life.  There 
were  nights  of  damp  and  drizzle,  and  then  thick  fogs, 
beautiful,  isolating,  grey-white  veils,  turning  every 
yard  of  pavement  into  a  private  room.  Grand  indeed 
were  these  fogs,  things  to  rejoice  at  mightily,  since 
then  it  was  no  longer  a  thing  for  public  scorn  when 
two  young  people  hurried  along  arm  in  arm,  and  one 
could  do  a  thousand  impudent,  significant  things  with 
varying  pressure  and  the  fondling  of  a  little  hand  (a 
hand  in  a  greatly  mended  glove  of  cheap  kid).  Then 
indeed  one  seemed  to  be  nearer  that  elusive  some- 
thing that  threaded  it  all  together.  And  the  dangers 
of  the  street  corners,  the  horses  looming  up  suddenly 
out  of  the  dark,  the  carters  with  lanterns  at  their 
horses'  heads,  the  street  lamps,  blurred,  smoky  orange 
at  one's  nearest,  and  vanishing  at  twenty  yards  into 
dim  haze,  seemed  to  accentuate  the  infinite  need  of 
protection  on  the  part  of  a  delicate  young  lady  who 
had  already  traversed  three  winters  of  fogs,  thornily 

alone.     Moreover,  one  could  come  right  down   the 
9 


130         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

quiet  street  where  she  lived,  half-way  to  the  steps  of 
her  house,  with  a  delightful  sense  of  enterprise. 

The  fogs  passed  all  too  soon  into  a  hard  frost, 
into  nights  of  starlight  and  presently  moonlight, 
when  the  lamps  looked  hard,  flashing  like  rows  of 
yellow  gems,  and  their  reflections  and  the  glare  of 
the  shop  windows  were  sharp  and  frosty,  and  even 
the  stars  hard  and  bright,  snapping  noiselessly  (if 
one  may  say  so)  instead  of  twinkling.  A  jacket 
trimmed  with  imitation  Astrachan  replaced  Ethel's 
lighter  coat,  and  a  round  cap  of  Astrachan  her  hat, 
and  her  eyes  shone  hard  and  bright,  and  her  forehead 
was  broad  and  white  beneath  it.  It  was  exhilarate 
ing,  but  one  got  home  too  soon,  and  so  the  way 
from  Chelsea  to  Clapham  was  lengthened,  first  into 
a  loop  of  side  streets,  and  then  when  the  first  puk 
verulent  snows  told  that  Christmas  was  at  hand, 
into  a  new  loop  down  King's  Road,  and  once  even 
through  the  Brompton  Road  and  Sloane  Street, 
where  the  shops  were  full  of  decorations  and  enter- 
taining things. 

And,  under  circumstances  of  infinite  gravity,  Mr. 
Lewisham  secretly  spent  three-and-twenty  shillings 
out  of  the  vestiges  of  that  hundred  pounds,  and 
bought  Ethel  a  little  gold  ring  set  with  pearls. 
With  that  there  must  needs  be  a  ceremonial,  and  on 
the  verge  of  the  snowy,  foggy  Common  she  took 
off  her  glove  and  the  ring  was  placed  on  her  finger, 


LOVE  IN  THE  STREETS  131 

Whereupon  he  was  moved  to  kiss  her — on  the  frost- 
pink  knuckle  next  to  an  inky  nail. 

"  It's  silly  of  us,"  she  said.     "  What  can  we  do  ? 

"  You  wait,"  he  said,  and  his  tone  was  full  of 
vague  promises. 

Afterwards  he  thought  over  those  promises,  and 
another  evening  went  into  the  matter  more  fully, 
telling  her  of  all  the  brilliant  things  that  he  held 
it  was  possible  for  a  South  Kensington  student  to 
do  and  be — of  head-masterships,  northern  science 
schools,  inspectorships,  demonstratorships,  yea,  even 
professorships.  And  then,  and  then —  To  all  of 
which  she  lent  a  willing  and  incredulous  ear,  finding 
in  that  dreaming  a  quality  of  fear  as  well  as  delight. 

The  putting  on  of  the  pearl-set  ring  was  mere 
Ceremonial,  of  course  ;  she  could  not  wear  it  either 
at  Lagune's  or  at  home,  so  instead  she  threaded  it 
on  a  little  white  satin  ribbon  and  wore  it  round  her 
neck — "  next  her  heart."  He  thought  of  it  there 
warm  "  next  her  heart." 

When  he  had  bought  the  ring  he  had  meant  to 
save  it  for  Christmas  before  he  gave  it  to  her.  But 
the  desire  to  see  her  pleasure  had  been  too  strong 
for  him. 

Christmas  Eve,  I  know  not  by  what  deceit  on  her 
part,  these  young  people  spent  together  all  day. 
Lagune  was  down   with  a  touch  of  bronchitis  and 


132         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

had  given  his  typewriter  a  holiday.  Perhaps  she 
forgot  to  mention  it  at  home.  The  Royal  College 
was  in  vacation  and  Lewisham  was  free.  He  de- 
clined the  plumber's  invitation  ;  "  work  "  kept  him 
in  London,  he  said,  though  it  meant  a  pound  or 
more  of  added  expenditure.  These  absurd  young 
people  walked  sixteen  miles  that  Christmas  Eve, 
and  parted  warm  and  glowing.  There  had  been  a 
hard  frost  and  a  little  snow,  the  sky  was  a  colourless 
grey,  icicles  hung  from  the  arms  of  the  street  lamps, 
and  the  pavements  were  patterned  out  with  frond- 
like forms  that  were  trodden  into  slides  as  the  day 
grew  older.  The  Thames  they  knew  was  a  wonder- 
ful sight,  but  that  they  kept  until  last.  They  went 
first  along  the  Brompton  Road.  .  .  . 

And  it  is  well  that  you  should  have  the  picture  of 
them  right ;  Lewisham  in  the  ready-made  overcoat, 
blue  cloth  and  velvet  collar,  dirty  tan  gloves,  red  tie, 
and  bowler  hat ;  and  Ethel  in  a  two-year-old  jacket 
and  hat  of  curly  Astrachan  ;  both  pink-cheeked  from 
the  keen  air,  shyly  arm  in  arm  occasionally,  and  very 
alert  to  miss  no  possible  spectacle.  The  shops  were 
varied  and  interesting  along  the  Brompton  Road, 
but  nothing  to  compare  with  Piccadilly.  There  were 
windows  in  Piccadilly  so  full  of  costly  little  things, 
it  took  fifteen  minutes  to  get  them  done,  card  shops, 
drapers'  shops  full  of  foolish,  entertaining  attractions. 
Lewisham,  in  spite  of  his  old  animosities,  forgot  to 


LOVE  IN  THE  STREETS  133 

be  severe  on  the  Shopping  Class,  Ethel  was  so  vastly 
entertained  by  all  these  pretty  follies. 

Then  up  Regent  Street  by  the  place  where  the 
sham  diamonds  are,  and  the  place  where  the  girls 
display  their  long  hair,  and  the  place  where  the  little 
chickens  run  about  in  the  window,  and  so  into 
Oxford  Street,  Holborn,  Ludgate  Hill,  St.  Paul's 
Churchyard,  to  Leadenhall,  and  the  markets  where 
turkeys,  geese,  ducklings  and  chickens — turkeys  pre- 
dominant, however — hang  in  rows  of  a  thousand  at 
a  time. 

"  I  must  buy  you  something,"  said  Lewisham,  re- 
suming a  topic. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Ethel  with  her  eye  down  a  vista  of 
innumerable  birds. 

"  But  I  must,"  said  Lewisham.  "You  had  better 
choose  it,  or  I  shall  get  something  wrong."  His 
mind  ran  on  brooches  and  clasps. 

"  You  mustn't  waste  your  money,  and  besides,  I 
have  that  ring." 

But  Lewisham  insisted. 

"  Then — if  you  must — I  am  starving.  Buy  me 
something  to  eat." 

An  immense  and  memorable  joke.  Lewisham 
plunged  recklessly — orientally — into  an  awe-inspir- 
ing place  with  mitred  napkins.  They  lunched  on 
cutlets — stripped  the  cutlets  to  the  bone — and  little 
crisp  brown  potatoes,  and  they  drank  between  them 


134         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

a  whole  half  bottle  of — some  white  wine  or  other, 
Lewisham  selected  in  an  off-hand  way  from  the  list. 
Neither  of  them  had  ever  taken  wine  at  a  meal  be- 
fore. One-and-ninepence  it  cost  him,  Sir,  and  the 
name  of  it  was  Capri  !  It  was  really  very  passable 
Capri — a  manufactured  product,  no  doubt,  but  warm- 
ing and  aromatic.  Ethel  was  aghast  at  his  magnifi- 
cence and  drank  a  glass  and  a  half. 

Then,  very  warm  and  comfortable,  they  went  down 
by  the  Tower,  and  the  Tower  Bridge  with  its  crest 
of  snow,  huge  pendant  icicles,  and  the  ice  blocks 
choked  in  its  side  arches,  was  seasonable  seeing. 
And  as  they  had  had  enough  of  shops  and  crowds 
they  set  off  resolutely  along  the  desolate  Embank- 
ment homeward. 

But  indeed  the  Thames  was  a  wonderful  sight  that 
year !  ice-fringed  along  either  shore,  and  with  drift- 
ice  in  the  middle  reflecting  a  luminous  scarlet  from 
the  broad  red  setting  sun,  and  moving  steadily,  in- 
cessantly seaward.  A  swarm  of  mewing  gulls  went 
to  and  fro,  and  with  them  mingled  pigeons  and  crows. 
The  buildings  on  the  Surrey  side  were  dim  and  grey 
and  very  mysterious,  the  moored,  ice-blocked  barges 
silent  and  deserted,  and  here  and  there  a  lit  window 
shone  warm.  The  sun  sank  right  out  of  sight  into 
a  bank  of  blue,  and  the  Surrey  side  dissolved  in  mist 
save  for  a  few  insoluble  spots  of  yellow  light,  that 
presently  became  many.     And  after  our  lovers  had 


LOVE  IN  THE  STREETS  135 

come  under  Charing  Cross  Bridge  the  Houses  of 
Parliament  rose  before  them  at  the  end  of  a  great 
crescent  of  golden  lamps,  blue  and  faint,  halfway 
between  the  earth  and  sky.  And  the  clock  on  the 
Tower  was  like  a  November  sun. 

It  was  a  day  without  a  flaw,  or  at  most  but  the 
slightest  speck.  And  that  only  came  at  the  very 
end. 

"  Good-bye,  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been  very 
happy  to-day." 

His  face  came  very  close  to  hers.  "  Good-bye," 
he  said,  pressing  her  hand  and  looking  into  her  eyes. 

She  glanced  round,  she  drew  nearer  to  him. 
"  Dearest  one,"  she  whispered  very  softly,  and  then, 
"  Good-bye." 

Suddenly  he  became  unaccountably  petulant,  he 
dropped  her  hand.  "  It's  always  like  this.  We  are 
happy.  /  am  happy.  And  then — then  you  are 
taken  away.  ..." 

There  was  a  silence  of  mute  interrogations. 

"  Dear,"  she  whispered,  "  we  must  wait." 

A  moment's  pause.  "  Wait  !  "  he  said,  and  broke 
i)ff.  He  hesitated.  "  Good-bye,"  he  said  as  though 
he  was  snapping  a  thread  that  held  them  together. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MISS  heydinger's  private  thoughts 

The  way  from  Chelsea  to  Clapham  and  the  way 
from  South  Kensington  to  Battersea,  especially  if 
the  former  is  looped  about  a  little  to  make  it  longer, 
come  very  near  to  each  other.  One  night  close 
upon  Christmas  two  friends  of  Lewisham's  passed 
him  and  Ethel.  But  Lewisham  did  not  see  them, 
because  he  was  looking  at  Ethel's  face. 

"  Did  you  see  ?  "  said  the  other  girl,  a  little  mali- 
ciously. 

"  Mr.  Lewisham — wasn't  it  ?  "  said  Miss  Heydinger 
in  a  perfectly  indifferent  tone. 

Miss  Heydinger  sat  in  the  room  her  younger 
sisters  called  her  "  Sanctum."  Her  Sanctum  was 
only  too  evidently  an  intellectualised  bedroom,  and 
a  cheap  wall-paper  of  silvery  roses  peeped  co- 
quettishly  from  among  her  draped  furniture.  Her 
particular  glories  were  the  writing-desk  in  the  mid- 
dle and  the  microscope  on  the  unsteady  octagonal 
table  under  the  window.     There  were  bookshelves 

of   workmanship  patently  feminine  in  their  facile 
136 


MISS  HEYDINGER'S  THOUGHTS     137 

decoration  and  structural  instability,  and  on  them 
an  array  of  glittering  poets,  Shelley,  Rossetti,  Keats, 
Browning,  and  odd  volumes  of  Ruskin,  South  Place 
Sermons,  Socialistic  publications  in  torn  paper 
covers,  and  above,  science  text-books  and  note- 
books in  an  oppressive  abundance.  The  autotypes 
that  hung  about  the  room  were  eloquent  of  aes- 
thetic ambitions  and  of  a  certain  impermeability  to 
implicit  meanings.  There  was  the  Mirror  of  Venus 
by  Burne  Jones,  Rossetti's  Annunciation,  Lippi's 
Annunciation,  and  the  Love  of  Life  and  Love  and 
Death  of  Watts.  And  among  other  photographs 
was  one  of  last  year's  Debating  Society  Committee, 
Lewisham  smiling  a  little  weakly  near  the  centre, 
and  Miss  Heydinger  out  of  focus  in  the  right  wing. 
And  Miss  Heydinger  sat  with  her  back  to  all  these 
things,  in  her  black  horsehair  arm-chair,  staring  into 
the  fire,  her  eyes  hot,  and  her  chin  on  her  hand. 

"  I  might  have  guessed — before,"  she  said.  "  Ever 
since  that  stance.     It  has  been  different  .  .  ." 

She  smiled  bitterly.     "  Some  shop  girl  .  .  ." 

She  mused.  "  They  are  all  alike,  I  suppose. 
They  come  back — a  little  damaged,  as  the  woman 
says  in  "  Lady  Windermere's  Fan".  Perhaps  he  will. 
I  wonder  .  .  . 

"  Why  should  he  be  so  deceitful  ?  Why  should 
he  act  to  me  ?  .  .  ." 

"  Pretty,    pretty,    pretty — that    is    our    business. 


138         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

What  man  hesitates  in  the  choice  ?  He  goes  his 
own  way,  thinks  his  own  thoughts,  does  his  own 
work  .  .  . 

"  His  dissection  is  getting  behind — one  can  see 
he  takes  scarcely  any  notes.  .  .  ." 

For  a  long  time  she  was  silent.  Her  face  became 
more  intent.  She  began  to  bite  her  thumb,  at  first 
slowly,  then  faster.  She  broke  out  at  last  into 
words  again. 

"  The  things  he  might  do,  the  great  things  he 
might  do.  He  is  able,  he  is  dogged,  he  is  strong. 
And  then  comes  a  pretty  face !  Oh  God  !  Why 
was  I  made  with  heart  and  brain  ?  "  She  sprang 
to  her  feet,  with  her  hands  clenched  and  her  face 
contorted.     But  she  shed  no  tears. 

Her  attitude  fell  limp  in  a  moment.  One  hand 
dropped  by  her  side,  the  other  rested  on  a  fossil  on 
the  mantel-shelf,  and  she  stared  down  into  the  red 
fire. 

"  To  think  of  all  we  might  have  done  !  It  mad- 
dens me  ! 

"  To  work,  and  think,  and  learn.  To  hope  and 
wait.  To  despise  the  petty  arts  of  womanliness, 
to  trust  to  the  sanity  of  man  .... 

M  To  awake  like  the  foolish  virgins,"  she  said, 
"  and  find  the  hour  of  life  is  past  !  " 

Her  face,  her  pose,  softened  into  self-pity. 

"  Futility  .  .  . 


MISS  HEYDINGER'S  THOUGHTS      139 

"  It's  no  good.  .  .  ."     Her  voice  broke. 

11 1  shall  never  be  happy.  .  .  ." 

She  saw  the  grandiose  vision  of  the  future  she 
had  cherished,  suddenly  rolled  aside  and  vanishing, 
more  and  more  splendid  as  it  grew  more  and  more 
remote— like  a  dream  at  the  waking  moment.  The 
vision  of  her  inevitable  loneliness  came  to  replace 
it,  clear  and  acute.  She  saw  herself  alone  and  small 
in  a  huge  desolation — infinitely  pitiful,  Lewisham 
callously  receding.  With  "  some  shop  girl."  The 
tears  came,  came  faster,  until  they  were  streaming 
down  her  face.  She  turned  as  if  looking  for  some- 
thing. She  flung  herself  upon  her  knees  before  the 
little  arm-chair,  and  began  an  incoherent  sobbing 
prayer  for  the  pity  and  comfort  of  God. 

The  next  day  one  of  the  other  girls  in  the  biolog- 
ical course  remarked  to  her  friend  that  "  Hey- 
dinger-dingery  "  had  relapsed.  Her  friend  glanced 
down  the  laboratory.  "  It's  a  bad  relapse,"  she  said. 
"  Really  ...  I  couldn't  .  .  .  wear  my  hair  like 
that." 

She  continued  to  regard  Miss  Heydinger  with 
a  critical  eye.  She  was  free  to  do  this  because  Miss 
Heydinger  was  standing,  lost  in  thought,  staring  at 
the  December  fog  outside  the  laboratory  windows. 
"  She  looks  white,"  said  the  girl  who  had  originally 
spoken.     "  I  wonder  if  she  works  hard." 


140         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  It  makes  precious  little  difference  if  she  does," 
said  her  friend.  "  I  asked  her  yesterday  what  were 
the  bones  in  the  parietal  segment,  and  she  didn't 
know  one.     Not  one." 

The  next  day  Miss  Heydinger's  place  was  vacant. 
She  was  ill — from  overstudy — and  her  illness  lasted 
to  within  three  weeks  of  the  terminal  examination, 
Then  she  came  back  with  a  pallid  face  and  a  strenu- 
ous unavailing  industry. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN   THE   RAPHAEL   GALLERY 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock,  and  in  the  Biological 
Laboratory  the  lamps  were  all  alight.  The  class 
was  busy  with  razors  cutting  sections  of  the  root  of 
a  fern  to  examine  it  microscopically.  A  certain 
silent  frog-like  boy,  a  private  student  who  plays  no 
further  part  in  this  story,  was  working  intently, 
looking  more  like  a  frog  than  usual, — his  expression 
modest  with  a  touch  of  effort.  Behind  Miss  Hey- 
dinger,  jaded  and  untidy  in  her  early  manner  again, 
was  a  vacant  seat,  an  abandoned  microscope  and 
scattered  pencils  and  note-books. 

On  the  door  of  the  class-room  was  a  list  of  those 
who  had  passed  the  Christmas  examination.  At 
the  head  of  it  was  the  name  of  the  aforesaid  frog- 
like boy ;  next  to  him  came  Smithers  and  one  of 
the  girls  bracketed  together.  Lewisham  inglor- 
iously  headed  the  second  class,  and  Miss  Heydinger's 
name  did  not  appear — there  was,  the  list  asserted, 
"one  failure."     So  the  student  pays  for  the  finer 

emotions. 

Hi 


142  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

And  in  the  spacious  solitude  of  the  museum  gal- 
lery devoted  to  the  Raphael  cartoons,  sat  Lewis- 
ham,  plunged  in  gloomy  meditation.  A  negligent 
hand  pulled  thoughtfully  at  the  indisputable  mous- 
tache, with  particular  attention  to  such  portions  as 
were  long  enough  to  gnaw. 

He  was  trying  to  see  the  situation  clearly.  As 
he  was  just  smarting  acutely  under  his  defeat,  this 
speaks  little  for  the  clearness  of  his  mind.  The 
shadow  of  that  defeat  lay  across  everything,  blotted 
out  the  light  of  his  pride,  shaded  his  honour,  threw 
everything  into  a  new  perspective.  The  rich  pret- 
tiness  of  his  love-making  had  fled  to  some  remote 
quarter  of  his  being.  Against  the  frog-like  youngster 
he  felt  a  savage  animosity.  And  Smithers  had  be- 
trayed him.  He  was  angry,  bitterly  angry  with 
"  swats  "  and  "  muggers "  who  spent  their  whole 
time  grinding  for  these  foolish  chancy  examinations. 
Nor  had  the  practical  examination  been  altogether 
fair,  and  one  of  the  questions  in  the  written  portion 
was  quite  outside  the  lectures.  Biver,  Professor 
Biver,  was  an  indiscriminating  ass,  he  felt  assured, 
and  so  too  was  Weeks,  the  demonstrator.  But  these 
obstacles  could  not  blind  his  intelligence  to  the 
manifest  cause  of  his  overthrow,  the  waste  of  more 
than  half  his  available  evening,  the  best  time  for 
study  in  the  twenty-four  hours,  day  after  day.  And 
that  was  going  on  steadily,  a  perpetual  leakage  of 


IN  THE  RAPHAEL  GALLERY        143 

time.  To-night  he  would  go  to  meet  her  again, 
and  begin  to  accumulate  to  himself  ignominy  in  the 
second  part  of  the  course,  the  botanical  section, 
also.  And  so,  reluctantly  rejecting  one  cloudy 
excuse  after  another,  he  clearly  focussed  the  antagon- 
ism between  his  relations  to  Ethel  and  his  immedi- 
ate ambitions. 

Things  had  come  so  easily  to  him  for  the  last  two 
years  that  he  had  taken  his  steady  upward  progress 
in  life  as  assured.  It  had  never  occurred  to  him, 
when  he  went  to  intercept  Ethel  after  that  seance, 
that  he  went  into  any  peril  of  that  sort.  Now  he 
had  had  a  sharp  reminder.  He  began  to  shape  a 
picture  of  the  frog-like  boy  at  home — he  was  a  pri- 
vate student  of  the  upper  middle  class — sitting  in  a 
convenient  study  with  a  writing-table,  book-shelves 
and  a  shaded  lamp — Lewisham  worked  at  his  chest 
of  drawers,  with  his  great  coat  on,  and  his  feet  in  the 
lowest  drawer  wrapped  in  all  his  available  linen — 
and  in  the  midst  of  incredible  conveniences  the  frog- 
like boy  was  working,  working,  working.  Mean- 
while Lewisham  toiled  through  the  foggy  streets, 
Chelsea-ward,  or,  after  he  had  left  her,  tramped 
homeward — full  of  foolish  imaginings. 

He  began  to  think  with  bloodless  lucidity  of  his 
entire  relationship  to  Ethel.  His  softer  emotions 
were  in  abeyance,  but  he  told  himself  no  lies.  He 
cared  for  her,  he  loved  to  be  with  her  and  to  talk 


144         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

to  her  and  please  her,  but  that  was  not  all  his  desire. 
He  thought  of  the  bitter  words  of  an  orator  at 
Hammersmith,  who  had  complained  that  in  our 
present  civilisation  even  the  elemental  need  of 
marriage  was  denied.  Virtue  had  become  a  vice. 
"  We  marry  in  fear  and  trembling,  sex  for  a  home 
is  the  woman's  traffic,  and  the  man  comes  to  his 
heart's  desire  when  his  heart's  desire  is  dead."  The 
thing  which  had  seemed  a  mere  flourish,  came  back 
now  with  a  terrible  air  of  truth.  Lewisham  saw 
that  it  was  a  case  of  divergent  ways.  On  the  one 
hand  that  shining  staircase  to  fame  and  power,  that 
had  been  his  dream  from  the  very  dawn  of  his  ad- 
olescence, and  on  the  other  hand — Ethel. 

And  if  he  chose  Ethel,  even  then,  would  he  have 
his  choice  ?  What  would  come  of  it  ?  A  few 
walks  more  or  less !  She  was  hopelessly  poor,  he 
was  hopelessly  poor,  and  this  cheat  of  a  Medium 
was  her  stepfather!  After  all  she  was  not  well- 
educated,  she  did  not  understand  his  work  and  his 
aims.  .  .  . 

He  suddenly  perceived  with  absolute  conviction 
that  after  the  seance  he  should  have  gone  home  and 
forgotten  her.  Why  had  he  felt  that  irresistible 
impulse  to  seek  her  out  ?  Why  had  his  imagination 
spun  such  a  strange  web  of  possibilities  about  her? 
He  was  involved  now,  foolishly  involved.  .  .  .  All 
his  future  was  a  sacrifice  to  this  transitory  ghost  of 


IN  THE  RAPHAEL  GALLERY        145 

lov<;-making  in  the  streets.  He  pulled  spitefully  at 
his  moustache. 

His  picture  began  to  shape  itself  into  Ethel,  and 
her  mysterious  mother  and  the  vague  dexterous 
Chaffery  holding  him  back,  entangled  in  an  impalpa- 
ble net  from  that  bright  and  glorious  ascent  to  per- 
formance and  distinction.  Leaky  boots  and  the 
splash  of  cabs  for  all  his  life  as  his  portion  !  Already 
the  Forbes  Medal,  the  immediate  step,  was  as  good 
as  lost.  .  .  . 

What  on  earth  had  he  been  thinking  about?  He 
fell  foul  of  his  upbringing.  Men  of  the  upper  or 
middle  classes  were  put  up  to  these  things  by  their 
parents ;  they  were  properly  warned  against  involv- 
ing themselves  in  this  love  nonsense  before  they 
were  independent.     It  was  much  better.  .  .  . 

Everything  was  going.  Not  only  his  work — his 
scientific  career,  but  the  Debating  Society,  the 
political  movement,  all  his  work  for  Humanity.  .  .  . 
Why  not  be  resolute — even  now?  .  .  .  Why  not 
put  the  thing  clearly  and  plainly  to  her  ?  Or  write  ? 
If  he  wrote  now  he  could  get  the  advantage  of  the 
evening  at  the  Library.  He  must  ask  her  to  forego 
these  walks  home — at  least  until  the  next  examina- 
tion. She  would  understand.  He  had  a  qualm  of 
doubt  whether  she  would  understand.  .  .  .  He  grew 
angry    at    this   possibility.     But    it    was    no    good 

mincing  matters.     If   once    he    began    to   consider 
10 


146  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

lier —  Why  should  he  consider  her  in  that  way? 
Simply  because  she  was  unreasonable  ! 

Lewisham  had  a  transitory  gust  of  anger. 

Yet  that  abandonment  of  the  walks  insisted  on 
looking  mean  to  him.  And  she  would  think  it 
mean.  Which  was  very  much  worse,  somehow. 
Why  mean  ?  Why  should  she  think  it  mean  ?  He 
grew  angry  again. 

The  portly  museum  policeman  who  had  been 
watching  him  furtively,  wondering  why  a  student 
should  sit  in  front  of  the  "  Sacrifice  of  Lystra  "  and 
gnaw  lips  and  nails  and  moustache,  and  scowl  and 
glare  at  that  masterpiece,  saw  him  rise  suddenly  to 
his  feet  with  an  air  of  resolution,  spin  on  his  heel, 
and  set  off  with  a  quick  step  out  of  the  gallery. 
He  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left.  He 
passed  out  of  sight  down  the  staircase. 

"Gone  to  get  some  more  moustache  to  eat,  .1 
suppose,"  said  the  policeman  reflectively.  .  .  . 

"  One  'ud  think  something  had  bit  him." 

After  some  pensive  moments  the  policeman 
strolled  along  down  the  gallery  and  came  to  a  stop 
opposite  the  cartoon. 

"  Figgers  is  a  b^  big  for  the  houses,"  said  the 
policeman,  anxious  to  do  impartial  justice.  "  But 
that's  Art.  I  lay  V  couldn't  do  anything  .  .  .  not 
arf  so  good." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  FRIENDS  OF  PROGRESS  MEET 

The  night  next  but  one  after  this  meditation  saw 
a  new  order  in  the  world.  A  young  lady  dressed  in 
an  astrachan-edged  jacket  and  with  a  face  of  dimin- 
ished cheerfulness  marched  from  Chelsea  to  Clap- 
ham  alone,  and  Lewisham  sat  in  the  flickering  elec- 
tric light  of  the  Education  Library,  staring  blankly 
over  a  business-like  pile  of  books  at  unseen  things. 

The  arrangement  had  not  been  effected  without 
friction,  the  explanation  had  proved  difficult.  Evi- 
dently she  did  not  appreciate  the  full  seriousness 
of  Lewisham's  mediocre  position  in  the  list.  "  But 
you  have  passed  all  right,"  she  said.  Neither  could 
she  grasp  the  importance  of  evening  study.  "  Of 
course  I  don't  know,"  she  said  judicially  ;  " but  I 
thought  you  were  learning  all  day."  She  calculated 
the  time  consumed  by  their  walk  as  half  an  hour, 
"  just  one  half  hour,"  she  forgot  that  he  had  to  get 
to  Chelsea  and  then  to  return  to  his  lodgings.  Her 
customary   tenderness  was  veiled   by  an    only  too 

apparent  resentment.     First  at  him,  and  then  when 

147 


148  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

he  protested,  at  Fate.  "  I  suppose  it  has  to  be," 
she  said.  "  Of  course,  it  doesn't  matter,  I  suppose, 
if  we  don't  see  each  other  quite  so  often,"  with  a 
quiver  of  pale  lips. 

He  had  returned  from  the  parting  with  an  un- 
easy mind,  and  that  evening  had  gone  in  the  com- 
position of  a  letter  that  was  to  make  things  clearer. 
But  his  scientific  studies  rendered  his  prose  style 
"  hard,"  and  things  he  could  whisper  he  could  not 
write.  His  justification  indeed  did  him  no  sort  of 
justice.  But  her  reception  of  it  made  her  seem  a 
very  unreasonable  person.  He  had  some  violent 
fluctuations.  At  times  he  was  bitterly  angry  with 
her  for  her  failure  to  see  things  as  he  did.  He 
would  wander  about  the  museum  conducting  imag- 
inary discussions  with  her  and  making  even  scath. 
ing  remarks.  At  other  times  he  had  to  summon 
all  his  powers  of  acrid  discipline  and  all  his  mem- 
ories of  her  resentful  retorts,  to  keep  himself  from 
a  headlong  rush  to  Chelsea  and  unmanly  capitula- 
tion. 

And  this  new  disposition  of  things  endured  for 
two  weeks.  It  did  not  take  Miss  Heydinger  all 
that  time  to  discover  that  the  disaster  of  the  ex- 
amination had  wrought  a  change  in  Lewisham. 
She  perceived  those  nightly  walks  were  over.  It 
was  speedily  evident  to  her  that  he  was  working 
with   a   kind  of   dogged  fury  ;  he  came  early,  he 


THE  FRIENDS  OF  PROGRESS  MEET    149 

went  late.  The  wholesome  freshness  of  his  cheek 
paled.  He  was  to  be  seen  on  each  of  the  late 
nights  amidst  a  pile  of  diagrams  and  text-books 
in  one  of  the  less  draughty  corners  of  the  Educa- 
tional Library,  accumulating  piles  of  memoranda. 
And  nightly  in  the  Students'  "club"  he  wrote  a 
letter  addressed  to  a  stationer's  shop  in  Clapham, 
but  that  she  did  not  see.  For  the  most  part  these 
letters  were  brief,  for  Lewisham,  South  Ken- 
sington fashion,  prided  himself  upon  not  being 
"  literary,"  and  some  of  the  more  despatch-like 
wounded  a  heart  perhaps  too  hungry  for  tender 
words. 

He  did  not  meet  Miss  Heydinger's  renewed  ad- 
vances with  invariable  kindness.  Yet  something  of 
the  old  relations  were  presently  restored.  He  would 
talk  well  to  her  for  a  time,  and  then  snap  like  a  dry 
twig.  But  the  loaning  of  books  was  resumed,  the 
subtle  process  of  his  aesthetic  education  that  Miss 
Heydinger  had  devised.  "  Here  is  a  book  I  prom- 
ised you,"  she  said  one  day,  and  he  tried  to  re- 
member the  promise. 

The  book  was  a  collection  of  Browning's  Poems, 
and  it  contained  "  Sludge  "  ;  it  also  happened  that  it 
contained  "  The  Statue  and  the  Bust  " — that  stimu- 
lating lecture  on  half-hearted  constraints.  "  Sludge" 
did  not  interest  Lewisham,  it  was  not  at  all  his  idea 
of  a  medium,  but  he  read  and  re-read  "  The  Statue 


150         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

and  the  Bust."  It  had  the  profoundest  effect  upon 
him.  He  went  to  sleep — he  used  to  read  his  litera- 
ture in  bed  because  it  was  warmer  there,  and  over 
literature  nowadays  it  did  not  matter  as  it  did  with 
science  if  one  dozed  a  little — with  these  lines  stimu- 
lating his  emotion  : — 

"  So  weeks  grew  months,  years  ;  gleam  by  gleam 
The  glory  dropped  from  their  youth  and  love, 
And  both  perceived  they  had  dreamed  a  dream." 

By  way  of  fruit  it  may  be  to  such  seed,  he  dreamed 
a  dream  that  night.  It  concerned  Ethel,  and  at 
last  they  were  a-marrying.  He  drew  her  to  his 
arms.  He  bent  to  kiss  her.  And  suddenly  he  saw 
her  lips  were  shrivelled  and  her  eyes  were  dull,  saw 
the  wrinkles  seaming  her  face  !  She  was  old  !  She 
was  intolerably  old  !  He  woke  in  a  kind  of  horror 
and  lay  awake  and  very  dismal  until  dawn,  think- 
ing of  their  separation  and  of  her  solitary  walk 
through  the  muddy  streets,  thinking  of  his  position, 
the  leeway  he  had  lost  and  the  chances  there  were 
against  him  in  the  battle  of  the  world.  He  per- 
ceived the  colourless  truth  ;  the  Career  was  im- 
probable, and  that  Ethel  should  be  added  to  it  was 
almost  hopeless.  Clearly  the  question  was  between 
these  two.  Or  should  he  vacillate  and  lose  both  ? 
And  then  his  wretchedness  gave  place  to  that  anger 
that  comes  of  perpetually  thwarted  desires.  .  .  . 

It  was  on  the  day  after  this  dream  that  he  insulted 


THE  FRIENDS  OF  PROGRESS  MEET    151 

Parkson  so  grossly.  He  insulted  Parkson  after  a 
meeting  of  the  "  Friends  of  Progress  "  at  Parkson's 
rooms. 

No  type  of  English  student  quite  realises  the 
noble  ideal  of  plain  living  and  high  thinking  nowa- 
days. Our  admirable  examination  system  admits 
of  extremely  little  thinking  at  any  level,  high  or 
low.  But  the  Kensington  student's  living  is  at  any 
rate  insufficient,  and  he  makes  occasional  signs  of 
recognition  towards  the  cosmic  process. 

One  such  sign  was  the  periodic  gathering  of  these 
"  Friends  of  Progress,"  an  association  begotten  of 
Lewisham's  paper  on  Socialism.  It  was  understood 
that  strenuous  things  were  to  be  done  to  make  the 
world  better,  but  so  far  no  decisive  action  had  been 
taken. 

They  met  in  Parkson's  sitting-room,  because 
Parkson  was  the  only  one  of  the  Friends  opu- 
lent enough  to  have  a  sitting-room,  he  being  a 
Whitworth  Scholar  and  in  receipt  of  one  hundred 
pounds  a  year.  The  Friends  were  of  various  ages, 
mostly  very  young.  Several  smoked  and  others 
held  pipes  which  they  had  discontinued  smoking — 
but  there  was  nothing  to  drink,  except  coffee,  be- 
cause that  was  the  extent  of  their  means.  Dunker- 
ley,  an  assistant  master  in  a  suburban  school,  and 
Lewisham's  former  colleague  at  Whortley,  attended 
these    assemblies      through     the     introduction    of 


152  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Lewisham.  All  the  Friends  wore  red  ties  except 
Bletherley,  who  wore  an  orange  one  to  show  that 
he  was  aware  of  Art,  and  Dunkerley  who  wore  a 
black  one  with  blue  specks,  because  assistant  mas- 
ters in  small  private  schools  have  to  keep  up  ap- 
pearances. And  their  simple  procedure  was  that 
each  talked  as  much  as  the  others  would  suffer. 

Usually  the  self-proposed  "  Luther  of  Socialism  " 
— ridiculous  Lewisham  ! — had  a  thesis  or  so  to  main- 
tain, but  this  night  he  was  depressed  and  inattentive. 
He  sat  with  his  legs  over  the  arm  of  his  chair  by 
way  of  indicating  the  state  of  his  mind.  He  had  a 
packet  of  Algerian  cigarettes  (twenty  for  five  pence) 
and  appeared  chiefly  concerned  to  smoke  them  all 
before  the  evening  was  out.  Bletherley  was  going 
to  discourse  of  "  Woman  under  Socialism,"  and  he 
brought  a  big  American  edition  of  Shelley's  works 
and  a  volume  of  Tennyson  with  the  "  Princess," 
both  bristling  with  paper  tongues  against  his  marked 
quotations.  He  was  all  for  the  abolition  of  "  mono- 
polies," and  the  creche  was  to  replace  the  family.  He 
was  unctuous  when  he  was  not  pretty-pretty,  and 
his  views  were  evidently  unpopular. 

Parkson  was  a  man  from  Lancashire,  and  a  devout 
Quaker;  his  third  and  completing  factor  was  Ruskin, 
with  whose  work  and  phraseology  he  was  saturated. 
He  listened  to  Bletherley  with  a  marked  disap- 
proval,  and   opened   a  vigorous    defence   of   that 


THE  FRIENDS  OF  PROGRESS  MEET    153 

ancient  tradition  of  loyalty  that  Bletherley  had 
called  the  monopolist  institution  of  marriage.  "  The 
pure  and  simple  old  theory — love  and  faithfulness," 
said  Parkson,  "  suffices  for  me.  If  we  are  to  smear 
our  political  movements  with  this  sort  of  stuff  .  .  ." 

"  Does  it  work?"  interjected  Lewisham,  speaking 
for  the  first  time. 

"  What  work  ?  " 

"  The  pure  and  simple  old  theory.  I  know  the 
theory.  I  believe  in  the  theory.  Bletherley  *s 
Shelley-witted.  But  it's  theory.  You  meet  the 
inevitable  girl.  The  theory  says  you  may  meet  her 
anywhen.  You  meet  too  young.  You  fall  in  love. 
You  marry — in  spite  of  obstacles.  Love  laughs  at 
locksmiths.  You  have  children.  That's  the  theory. 
All  very  well  for  a  man  whose  father  can  leave  him 
five  hundred  a  year.  But  how  does  it  work  for  a 
shopman?  .  .  .  An  assistant  master  like  Dunkerley? 
Or  .  .  .  Me?" 

"  In  these  cases  one  must  exercise  restraint," 
said  Parkson.  "  Have  faith.  A  man  that  is  worth 
having  is  worth  waiting  for." 

"Worth  growing  old  for?  "  said  Lewisham. 

"  Chap  ought  to  fight,"  said  Dunkerley.  "  Don't 
see  your  difficulty,  Lewisham.  Struggle  for  exis- 
tence keen,  no  doubt,  tremendous  in  fact — still.  In 
it — may  as  well  struggle.  Two — join  forces — pool 
the  luck.     If  I  saw,  a  girl  I  fancied  so  that  I  wanted 


154         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

to,  I'd  marry  her  to-morrow.  And  my  market  value 
is  seventy  non  res" 

Lewisham  looked  round  at  him  eagerly,  suddenly 
interested.  "  Would  you  ?  "  he  said.  Dunkerley's 
face  was  slightly  flushed. 

"  Like  a  shot.     Why  not  ?  " 

"  But  how  are  you  to  live? " 

"  That  comes  after.     If  ...  " 

"  I  can't  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Dunkerley,"  said 
Parkson.  "  I  don't  know  if  you  have  read  Sesame 
and  Lilies,  but  there  you  have,  set  forth  far  more 
fairly  than  any  words  of  mine  could  do,  an  ideal  of 
a  woman's  place  ..." 

"  All  rot — Sesame  and  Lilies,"  interrupted  Dun- 
kerley. "  Read  bits.  Couldn't  stand  it.  Never 
can  stand  Ruskin.  Too  many  prepositions.  Tre- 
mendous English,  no  doubt,  but  not  my  style. 
Sort  of  thing  a  wholesale  grocer's  daughter  might 
read  to  get  refined.      We  can't  afford  to  get  refined." 

"  But  would  you  really  marry  a  girl  .  .  .  ?  "  began 
Lewisham,  with  an  unprecedented  admiration  for 
Dunkerley  in  his  eyes. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  On — ?  "  Lewisham  hesitated. 

"  Forty  pounds  a  year  res.     Whack !     Yes." 

A  silent  youngster  began  to  speak,  cleared  an 
accumulated  huskiness  from  his  throat  and  said 
"  Consider  the  girl." 


THE  FRIENDS  OF  PROGRESS  MEET    155 

"Why  marry?"  asked  Bletherley,  unregarded. 

"  You  must  admit  you  are  asking  a  great  thing 
when  you  want  a  girl  ..."  began  Parkson. 

"  Not  so.  When  a  girl's  chosen  a  man,  and  he 
chooses  her,  her  place  is  with  him.  What  is  the 
good  of  hankering.     Mutual.     Fight  together." 

"  Good  !  "  said  Lewisham  suddenly  emotional. 
"  You  talk  like  a  man,  Dunkerley.  I'm  hanged  if 
you  don't." 

"  The  place  of  Woman,"  insisted  Parkson,  "  is 
the  Home.  And  if  there  is  no  home — !  I  hold  that, 
if  need  be,  a  man  should  toil  seven  years — as  Jacob 
did  for  Rachel — ruling  his  passions,  to  make  the 
home  fitting  and  sweet  for  her  ..." 

"  Get  the  hutch  for  the  pet  animal,"  said  Dunkerley, 
"No.  I  mean  to  marry  a  w^;m«.  Female  sex  always 
has  been  in  the  struggle  for  existence— no  great  dam- 
age so  far — always  will  be.  Tremendous  idea — that 
struggle  for  existence.  Only  sensible  theory  you've 
got  hold  of,  Lewisham.  Woman  who  isn't  fighting 
square  side  by  side  with  a  man — woman  who's  just 
kept  and  fed  and  petted  is  ...  '      He  hesitated. 

A  lad  with  a  spotted  face  and  a  bulldog  pipe 
between  his  teeth  supplied  a  Biblical  word. 

"  That's  shag,"  said  Dunkerley.  "  I  was  going  to 
say  '  a  harem  of  one.'  " 

The  youngster  was  puzzled  for  a  moment.  "  1 
smoke  Perique,"  he  said. 


156        LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM. 

"  It  will  make  you  just  as  sick,"  said  Dunkerley. 

"  Refinement's  so  beastly  vulgar,"  was  the  belated 
answer  of  the  smoker  of  Perique. 

That  was  the  interesting  part  of  the  evening  to 
Lewisham.  Parkson  suddenly  rose,  got  down  "  Se- 
same and  Lilies",  and  insisted  upon  reading  a  lengthy 
mellifluous  extract  that  went  like  a  garden  roller 
over  the  debate,  and  afterwards  Bletherley  became 
the  centre  of  a  wrangle  that  left  him  grossly  insulted 
and  in  a  minority  of  one.  The  institution  of  mar- 
riage, so  far  as  the  South  Kensington  student  is 
concerned,  is  in  no  immediate  danger. 

Parkson  turned  out  with  the  rest  of  them  at  half- 
past  ten,  for  a  walk.  The  night  was  warm  for 
February  and  the  waxing  moon  bright.  Parkson 
fixed  himself  upon  Lewisham  and  Dunkerley,  to 
Lewisham's  intense  annoyance — for  he  had  a  few 
intimate  things  he  could  have^  said  to  the  man  of 
Ideas  that  night.  Dunkerley  lived  north,  so  that 
the  three  went  up  Exhibition  Road  to  High  Street 
Kensington.  There  they  parted  from  Dunkerley 
and  Lewisham  and  Parkson  turned  southward  again 
for  Lewisham's  new  lodging  in  Chelsea. 

Parkson  was  one  of  those  exponents  of  virtue  for 
whom  the  discussion  of  sexual  matters  has  an  irre- 
sistible attraction.  The  meeting  had  left  him  elo- 
quent. He  had  argued  with  Dunkerley  to  the 
verge  of  indelicacy,  and  now  he  poured  out  a  vast 


THE  FRIENDS  OF  PROGRESS  MEET    157 

and  increasingly  confidential  flow  of  talk  upon  Lew- 
isham.  Lewisham  was  distraught.  He  walked  as 
fast  as  he  could.  His  sole  object  was  to  get  rid  of 
Parkson.  Parkson's  sole  object  was  to  tell  him  in- 
teresting secrets,  about  himself  and  a  Certain  Per- 
son with  a  mind  of  extraordinary  Purity  of  whom 
Lewisham  had  heard  before. 

Ages  passed. 

Lewisham  suddenly  found  himself  being  shown 
a  photograph  under  a  lamp.  It  represented  an 
unsymmetrical  face  singularly  void  of  expression, 
the  upper  part  of  an  "  art "  dress,  and  a  fringe  of 
curls.  He  perceived  he  was  being  given  to  under- 
stand that  this  was  a  Paragon  of  Purity,  and  that 
she  was  the  particular  property  of  Parkson.  Park- 
son  was  regarding  him  proudly  and  apparently 
awaiting  his  verdict. 

Lewisham  struggled  with  the  truth.  "  It's  an 
interesting  face,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  a  face  essentially  beautiful,"  said  Parkson 
quietly  but  firmly.  "  Do  you  notice  the  eyes, 
Lewisham  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Lewisham.  "Yes.  I  see  the 
eyes." 

"  They  are  .  .  .  innocent.  They  are  the  eyes  of 
a  little  child." 

"Yes.  They  look  that  sort  of  eye.  Very  nice,  old 
man.     I  congratulate  you.    Where  does  she  live?" 


158         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  You  never  saw  a  face  like  that  in  London,"  said 
Parkson. 

"Never"  said  Lewisham  decisively. 

"  I  would  not  show  that  to  every  one,"  said  Park- 
son.  "  You  can  scarcely  judge  all  that  pure-hearted, 
wonderful  girl  is  to  me."  He  returned  the  photo- 
graph solemnly  to  its  envelope,  regarding  Lewisham 
with  an  air  of  one  who  has  performed  the  ceremony 
of  blood-brotherhood.  Then  taking  Lewisham's 
arm  affectionately — a  thing  Lewisham  detested — he 
went  on  to  a  copious  outpouring  on  Love — with 
illustrative  anecdotes  of  the  Paragon.  It  was  just 
sufficiently  cognate  to  the  matter  of  Lewisham's 
thoughts  to  demand  attention.  Every  now  and 
then  he  had  to  answer,  and  he  felt  an  idiotic  desire 
— albeit  he  clearly  perceived  its  idiocy — to  recipro- 
cate confidences.  The  necessity  of  fleeing  Parkson 
became  urgent — Lewisham's  temper  under  these 
multitudinous  stresses  was  going. 

"  Every  man  needs  a  Lode  Star,"  said  Parkson — 
and  Lewisham  swore  under  his  breath. 

Parkson's  lodgings  were  now  near  at  hand  to  the 
left,  and  it  occurred  to  him  this  boredom  would  be 
soonest  ended  if  he  took  Parkson  home.  Parkson 
consented  mechanically,  still  discoursing. 

"  I  have  often  seen  you  talking  to  Miss  Hey- 
dinger,"  he  said.  "  If  you  will  pardon  my  saying 
it  " 


THE  FRIENDS  OF  PROGRESS  MEET    159 

"  We  are  excellent  friends,"  admitted  Lewisham. 
"  But  here  we  are  at  your  diggings." 

Parkson  stared  at  his  '*  diggings."  "  There's 
Heaps  I  want  to  talk  about.  I'll  come  part  of  the 
way  at  any  rate  to  Battersea.  Your  Miss  Hey- 
dinger,  I  was  saying  ..." 

From  that  point  onwards  he  made  casual  appeals 
to  a  supposed  confidence  between  Lewisham  and 
Miss  Heydinger,  each  of  which  increased  Lewis- 
ham's  exasperation.  "  It  will  not  be  long  before 
you  also,  Lewisham,  will  begin  to  know  the  infinite 
purification  of  a  Pure  Love.  ..."  Then  sud- 
denly, with  a  vague  idea  of  suppressing  Parkson's 
unendurable  chatter,  as  one  motive  at  least,  Lewis- 
ham rushed  into  the  confidential. 

"  I  know,"  he  said.  "You  talk  to  me  as  though 
.  .  .  I've  marked  out  my  destiny  these  three  years." 
His  confidential  impulse  died  as  he  relieved  it. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  Miss  Heydinger — ?" 
asked  Parkson. 

"Oh,  damn  Miss  Heydinger!"  said  Lewisham, 
and  suddenly,  abruptly,  uncivilly,  he  turned  away 
from  Parkson  at  the  end  of  the  street  and  began 
walking  away  southward,  leaving  Parkson  in  mid- 
sentence  at  the  crossing. 

Parkson  stared  in  astonishment  at  his  receding 
back  and  ran  after  him  to  ask  for  the  grounds  of 
this  sudden   offence.     Lewisham   walked   on   for  a 


160         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

space  with  Parkson  trotting  by  his  side.  Then  sud- 
denly he  turned.  His  face  was  quite  white  and  he 
spoke  in  a  tired  voice. 

"  Parkson,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  fool !  .  .  .  You 
have  the  face  of  a  sheep,  the  manners  of  a  buffalo, 
and  the  conversation  of  a  bore.  Pewrity  indeed ! 
The  girl  whose  photograph  you  showed  me 
has  eyes  that  don't  match.  She  looks  as  loathsome 
as  one  would  naturally  expect.  .  .  .  I'm  not  joking 
now.  ...  Go  away  !  " 

After  that  Lewisham  went  on  his  southward  way 
alone.  He  did  not  go  straight  to  his  room  in  Chel- 
sea, but  spent  some  hours  in  a  street  in  Battersea, 
pacing  to  and  fro  in  front  of  a  possible  house.  His 
passion  changed  from  savageness  to  a  tender  long, 
ing.  If  only  he  could  see  her  to-night !  He  knew 
his  own  mind  now.  To-morrow  he  was  resolved  he 
would  fling  work  to  the  dogs  and  meet  her.  The 
things  Dunkerley  had  said  had  filled  his  mind  with 
wonderful  novel  thoughts.  If  only  he  could  see  her 
now! 

His  wish  was  granted.  At  the  corner  of  the 
street  two  figures  passed  him  :  one  of  these, 
a  tall  man  in  glasses  and  a  quasi-clerical  hat, 
with  coat  collar  turned  up  under  his  grey  side- 
whiskers,  he  recognised  as  Chaffery ;  the  other 
he  knew  only  too  well.  The  pair  passed  him 
without  seeing  him,  but   for  an  instant  the  lamp- 


THE  FRIENDS  OF  PROGRESS  MEET    161 

light  fell  upon  her  face  and  showed  it  white  and 
tired. 

Lewisham  stopped  dead  at  the  corner,  staring  in 
blank  astonishment  after  these  two  figures  as  they 
receded  into  the  haze  under  the  lights.  He  was 
dumfounded.  A  clock  struck  slowly.  It  was 
midnight.  Presently  down  the  road  came  the 
slamming  of  their  door. 

Long  after  the  echo  died  away  he  stood  there. 
"  She  has  been  at  a  seance  ;  she  has  broken  her 
promise.  She  has  been  at  a  stance,  she  has  broken 
her  promise,"  sang  in  perpetual  reiteration  through 
his  brain. 

And   then  came   the   interpretation.     "  She   has 

done  it  because  I  have  left  her.     I  might  have  told 

it  from  her  letters.     She  has   done  it  because  she 

thinks  I  am    not  in  earnest,   that  my  love-making 

was  just  boyishness  .  .  . 

"  I  knew  she  would  never  understand." 
II 


CHAPTER  XIX 

lewisham's  solution 

The  next  morning  Lewisham  learnt  from  Lagune 
that  his  intuition  was  correct,  that  Ethel  had  at  last 
succumbed  to  pressure  and  consented  to  attempt 
thought-reading.  "  We  made  a  good  beginning," 
said  Lagune  rubbing  his  hands.  "  I  am  sure  we 
shall  do  well  with  her.  Certainly  she  has  powers. 
I  have  always  felt  it  in  her  face.     She  has  powers." 

"  Was  much  .  .  .  pressure  necessary  ?  "  asked 
Lewisham  by  an  effort. 

"  We  had — considerable  difficulty.  Considerable. 
But  of  course — as  I  pointed  out  to  her — it  was 
scarcely  possible  for  her  to  continue  as  my  type- 
writer unless  she  was  disposed  to  take  an  interest 
in  my  investigations — " 

"You  did  that?" 

"  Had  to.  Fortunately  Chaffery — it  was  his  idea. 
I  must  admit — " 

Lagune    stopped    astonished.      Lewisham,  after 

making  an  odd  sort  of  movement  with  his  hands, 

had  turned  round  and  was  walking  away  down  the 
162 


LEWISHAM'S  SOLUTION  163 

laboratory.  Lagune  stared,  confronted  by  a  psychic 
phenomenon  beyond  his  circle  of  ideas.  "  Odd  !  " 
he  said  at  last,  and  began  to  unpack  his  bag.  Ever 
and  again  he  stopped  and  stared  at  Lewisham,  who 
was  now  sitting  in  his  own  place  and  drumming  on 
the  table  with  both  hands. 

Presently  Miss  Heydinger  came  out  of  the  speci- 
men room  and  addressed  a  remark  to  the  young 
man.  He  appeared  to  answer  with  considerable 
brevity.  He  then  stood  up,  hesitated  for  a  moment 
between  the  three  doors  of  the  laboratory,  and 
walked  out  by  that  opening  on  the  back  staircase. 
Lagune  did  not  see  him  again  until  the  afternoon. 

That  night  Ethel  had  Lewisham's  company  again 
on  her  way  home  and  their  voices  were  earnest. 
She  did  not  go  straight  home,  but  instead  they 
went  up  under  the  gas  lamps  to  the  vague  spaces 
of  Clapham  Common  to  talk  there  at  length.  And 
the  talk  that  night  was  a  momentous  one.  "  Why 
have  you  broken  your  promise?"  he  said. 

Her  excuses  were  vague  and  weak.  "  I  thought 
you  did  not  care  so  much  as  you  did,"  she  said. 
"  And  when  you  stopped  these  walks — nothing 
seemed  to  matter.  Besides — it  is  not  like  stances 
with  spirits  .  .  ." 

At  first  Lewisham  was  passionate  and  forcible. 
His  anger  at  Lagune  and  Chaffery  blinded  him  to 
her   turpitude.      He    talked    her     defences    down. 


164         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  It  is  cheating,"  he  said.  "  Well — even  if  what 
you  do  is  not  cheating,  it  is  delusion — unconscious 
cheating.  Even  if  there  is  something  in  it,  it  is 
wrong.  True  or  not,  it  is  wrong.  Why  don't  they 
thought-read  each  other  ?  Why  should  they  want 
you?  Your  mind  is  your  own.  It  is  sacred.  To 
probe  it! — I  won't  have  it!  I  won't  have  it !  At 
least  you  are  mine  to  that  extent.  I  can't  think 
of  you  like  that- — bandaged.  And  that  little  fool 
pressing  his  hand  on  the  back  of  your  neck  and 
asking  questions.  I  won't  have  it !  I  would  rather 
kill  you  than  that." 

"  They  don't  do  that !  " 

"  I  don't  care !  that  is  what  it  will  come  to. 
The  bandage  is  the  beginning.  People  must  not 
get  their  living  in  that  way  anyhow.  I've  thought 
it  out.  Let  them  thought-read  their  daughters 
and  hypnotise  their  aunts,  and  leave  their  type- 
writers alone." 

"But  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"  That's  not  it.  There  are  things  one  must  not 
suffer  anyhow,  whatever  happens  !  Or  else — one 
might  be  made  to  do  anything.  Honour  !  Just 
because  we  are  poor — Let  him  dismiss  you  !  Let 
him  dismiss  you.     You  can  get  another  place — " 

"  Not  at  a  guinea  a  week." 

"  Then  take  less." 

"  But  I  have  to  pay  sixteen  shillings  every  week." 


LEWISHAM'S  SOLUTION  165 

"That  doesn't  matter." 

She  caught  at  a  sob.  "  But  to  leave  London — 
I  can't  do  it.     I  can't." 

"  But  how  ? — Leave  London  ?  "  Lewisham's 
face  changed. 

"  Oh  !  life  is  hard"  she  said.  "  I  can't.  They— 
they  wouldn't  let  me  stop  in  London." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

She  explained  if  Lagune  dismissed  her  she  was 
to  go  into  the  country  to  an  aunt,  a  sister  of  Chaf- 
fery's  who  needed  a  companion.  Chaffery  insisted 
upon  that.  "  Companion  they  call  it.  I  shall  be 
just  a  servant — she  has  no  servant.  My  mother  cries 
when  I  talk  to  her.  She  tells  me  she  doesn't  want 
me  to  go  away  from  her.  But  she's  afraid  of  him. 
1  Why  don't  you  do  what  he  wants  ?  '     she  says." 

She  sat  staring  in  front  of  her  at  the  gathering 
night.     She  spoke  again  in  an  even  tone. 

11 1  hate  telling  you  these  things.  It  is  you  .  .  . 
If  you  didn't  mind  .  .  .  But  you  make  it  all  different. 
I  could  do  it — if  it  wasn't  for  you.  I  was  ...  I 
was  helping  ...  I  had  gone  meaning  to  help  if 
anything  went  wrong  at  Mr.  Lagune's.  Yes — that 
night.  No  .  .  .  don't !  It  was  too  hard  before  to 
tell  you.  But  I  really  did  not  feel  it  .  .  .  until  I 
saw  you  there.  Then  all  at  once  I  felt  shabby  and 
mean." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Lewisham. 


166         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  That's  all.  I  may  have  done  thought-reading, 
but  I  have  never  really  cheated  since — never.  .  .  . 
If  you  knew  how  hard  it  is  .  .  ." 

"  I  wish  you  had  told  me  that  before." 

"  I  couldn't.  Before  you  came  it  was  different. 
He  used  to  make  fun  of  the  people — used  to  imi- 
tate Lagune  and  make  me  laugh.  It  seemed  a  sort 
of  joke."  She  stopped  abruptly.  "  Why  did  you 
ever  come  on  with  me?  I  told  you  not  to — you 
know  I  did." 

She  was  near  wailing.  For  a  minute  she  was 
silent. 

"  I  can't  go  to  his  sister's,"  she  cried.  "  I  may 
be  a  coward — but  I  can't." 

Pause.  And  then  Lewisham  saw  his  solution 
straight  and  clear.  Suddenly  his  secret  desire  had 
become  his  manifest  duty. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  not  looking  at  her  and 
pulling  his  moustache.  "  I  won't  have  you  doing 
any  more  of  that  damned  cheating.  You  shan't 
soil  yourself  any  more.  And  I  won't  have  you 
leaving  London." 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  ? "  Her  voice  went 
up. 

"  Well — there  is  one  thing  you  can  do.  If  you 
dare." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

He  made  no  answer  for  some  seconds.     Then  he 


LEWISHAMS  SOLUTION  167 

turned  round  and  sat  looking  at  her.  Their  eyes 
met.  .  .  . 

The  grey  of  his  mind  began  to  colour.  Her  face 
was  white  and  she  was  looking  at  him,  in  fear  and 
perplexity.  A  new  tenderness  for  her  sprang  up  in 
him — a  new  feeling.  Hitherto  he  had  loved  and 
desired  her  sweetness  and  animation — but  now  she 
was  white  and  weary-eyed.  He  felt  as  though  he  had 
forgotten  her  and  suddenly  remembered.  A  great 
longing  came  into  his  mind. 

"  But  what  is  the  other  thing  I  can  do?  " 

It  was  strangely  hard  to  say.  There  came  a  pe- 
culiar sensation  in  his  throat  and  facial  muscles,  a 
nervous  stress  between  laughing  and  crying.  All 
the  world  vanished  before  that  great  desire.  And 
he  was  afraid  she  would  not  dare,  that  she  would 
not  take  him  seriously. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  said  again. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  we  can  marry  ?  "  he  said, 
with  the  flood  of  his  resolution  suddenly  strong 
and  steady.  "  Don't  you  see  that  is  the  only 
thing  for  us  ?  The  dead  lane  we  are  in  !  You 
must  come  out  of  your  cheating,  and  I  must 
come  out  of  my  .  .  .  cramming.  And  we — we 
must   marry." 

He  paused  and  then  became  eloquent.  "  The 
world  is  against  us,  against — us.  To  you  it  offers 
money  to  cheat — to  be  ignoble.     For  it  is  ignoble  ! 


1 68         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

It  offers  you  no  honest  way,  only  a  miserable  drudg- 
ery. And  it  keeps  you  from  me.  And  me  too  it 
bribes  with  the  promise  of  success — if  I  will  desert 
you  .  .  .  You  don't  know  all  .  .  .  We  may  have  to 
wait  for  years — we  may  have  to  wait  for  ever,  if  we 
wait  until  life  is  safe.  We  may  be  separated.  .  .  . 
We  may  lose  one  another  altogether.  .  .  .  Let  us 
fight  against  it.  Why  should  we  separate  ?  Unless 
True  Love  is  like  the  other  things — an  empty  cant. 
This  is  the  only  way.  We  two — who  belong  to  one 
another." 

She  looked  at  him,  her  face  perplexed  with  this 
new  idea,  her  heart  beating  very  fast.  "  We  are  so 
young,"  she  said.  "  And  how  are  we  to  live  ?  You 
get  a  guinea." 

"  I  can  get  more — I  can  earn  more.  I  have 
thought  it  out.  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  these 
two  days.  I  have  been  thinking  what  we  could  do. 
I  have  money." 

"  You  have  money  ?  " 

"  Nearly  a  hundred  pounds." 

"  But  we  are  so  young —     And  my  mother  ..." 

"We  won't  ask  her.  We  will  ask  no  one.  This 
is  our  affair.  Ethel !  this  is  our  affair.  It  is  not  a 
question  of  ways  and  means — even  before  this — 
I  have  thought  .  .  .  Dear  one ! — dorit  you  love 
me?" 

She  did  not  grasp  his  emotional  quality.     She 


LEWISHAM'S  SOLUTION  169 

looked  at  him  with  puzzled  eyes — still  practical — 
making  the  suggestion  arithmetical. 

"  I  could  typewrite  if  I  had  a  machine.  I 
have  heard — " 

"  It's  not  a  question  of  ways  and  means.  Now. 
Ethel — I  have  longed — " 

He  stopped.  She  looked  at  his  face,  at  his  eyes 
now  eager  and  eloquent  with  the  things  that  never 
shaped  themselves  into  words. 

"Dare  you  come  with  me?"  he  whispered. 

Suddenly  the  world  opened  out  in  reality  to  her 
as  sometimes  it  had  opened  out  to  her  in  wistful 
dreams.  And  she  quailed  before  it.  She  dropped 
her  eyes  from  his.  She  became  a  fellow-conspirator. 
"  But,  how—?  " 

"  I  will  think  how.  Trust  me  !  Surely  we  know 
each  other  now —     Think  !     We  two — " 

"  But  I  have  never  thought — " 

"  I  could  get  apartments  for  us  both.  It  would 
be  so  easy.  And  think  of  it — think — of  what  life 
would  be  !  " 

"  How  can  I?" 

"  You  will  come?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  startled.  "  You  know,"  she 
said,  "  you  must  know  I  would  like — I  would 
love — " 

"  You  will  come." 

"  But  dear — !     Dear,  if  you  make  me — " 


170         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Yes !  "  cried  Lewisham  triumphantly.  "  You 
will  come."  He  glanced  round  and  his  voice 
dropped.     "  Oh  !  my  dearest !  my  dearest !  .  .  .  " 

His  voice  sank  to  an  inaudible  whisper.  But  his 
face  was  eloquent.  Two  garrulous,  home-going 
clerks  passed  opportunely  to  remind  him  that  his 
emotions  were  in  a  public  place. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   CAREER   IS   SUSPENDED 

On  the  Wednesday  afternoon  following  this — it  was 
hard  upon  the  botanical  examination — Mr.  Lewisham 
was  observed  by  Smithers  in  the  big  Education  Li- 
brary reading  in  a  volume  of  the  British  Encyclo- 
paedia. Beside  him  were  the  current  Whitaker's 
Almanac,  an  open  note-book,  a  book  from  the  Con- 
temporary Science  Series,  and  the  Science  and  Art 
Department's  Directory.  Smithers,  who  had  a  pro- 
found sense  of  Lewisham's  superiority  in  the  art  of 
obtaining  facts  of  value  in  examinations,  wondered 
for  some  minutes  what  valuable  tip  for  a  student  in 
botany  might  be  hidden  in  Whitaker,  and  on  reach- 
ing his  lodgings  spent  some  time  over  the  landlady's 
copy.  But  really  Lewisham  was  not  studying  bot- 
any, but  the  art  of  marriage  according  to  the  best 
authorities.  (The  book  from  the  Contemporary 
Science  Series  was  Professor  Lctourneau's  "  Evolu- 
tion of  Marriage."  It  was  interesting  certainly,  but 
of  little  immediate  use.) 

From  Whitaker  Lewisham  learnt  that  it  would  be 


172  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

possible  at  a  cost  of  £2  6s.  id.  or  £2  ys.  id.  (one  of 
the  items  was  ambiguous)  to  get  married  within  the 
week — that  charge  being  exclusive  of  vails — at  the 
district  registry  office.  He  did  little  addition  sums 
in  the  note-book.  The  church  fees  he  found  were 
variable,  but  for  more  personal  reasons  he  rejected  a 
marriage  at  church.  Marriage  by  certificate  at  a 
registrar's  involved  an  inconvenient  delay.  It  would 
have  to  be  £2  ys.  1.     Vails — ten  shillings,  say. 

Afterwards,  without  needless  ostentation,  he  pro- 
duced a  cheque-book  and  a  deposit-book,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  further  arithmetic.  He  found  that  he  was 
master  of  £61  4s.  yd.  Not  a  hundred  as  he  had  said, 
but  a  fine  big  sum — men  have  started  great  businesses 
on  less.  It  had  been  a  hundred  originally.  Allowing 
five  pounds  for  the  marriage  and  moving,  this  would 
leave  about  ^56.  Plenty.  No  provision  was  made 
for  flowers,  carriages  or  the  honeymoon.  But  there 
would  be  a  typewriter  to  buy.  Ethel  was  to  do  her 
share.  .  .  . 

"  It  will  be  a  devilish  close  thing,"  said  Lewisham 
with  a  quite  unreasonable  exultation.  For,  strangely 
enough,  the  affair  was  beginning  to  take  on  a  flavour 
of  adventure  not  at  all  unpleasant.  He  leant  back  in 
his  chair  with  the  note-book  closed  in  his  hand.  .  .  . 

But  there  was  much  to  see  to  that  afternoon. 
First  of  all  he  had  to  discover  the  district  superin- 
tendent registrar,  and  then  to  find  a  lodging  whither 


THE  CAREER  IS  SUSPENDED       173 

he  should  take  Ethel — their  lodging,  where  they 
were  to  live  together. 

At  the  thought  of  that  new  life  together  that  was 
drawing  so  near,  she  came  into  his  head,  vivid  and 
near  and  warm.  .  .  . 

He  recovered  himself  from  a  day  dream.  He  be- 
came aware  of  a  library  attendant  down  the  room 
leaning  forward  over  his  desk,  gnawing  the  tip  of  a 
paper  knife  after  the  fashion  of  South  Kensington 
library  attendants,  and  staring  at  him  curiously.  It 
occurred  to  Lewisham  that  thought  reading  was 
one  of  the  most  possible  things  in  the  world.  He 
blushed,  rose  clumsily  and  took  the  volume  of  the 
Encyclopaedia  back  to  its  shelf. 

He  found  the  selection  of  lodgings  a  difficult 
business.  After  his  first  essay  he  began  to  fancy 
himself  a  suspicious-looking  character,  and  that  per- 
haps hampered  him.  He  had  chosen  the  district 
southward  of  the  Brompton  Road.  It  had  one  dis- 
advantage—he might  blunder  into  a  house  with  a 
fellow-student.  .  .  .  Not  that  it  mattered  vitally. 
But  the  fact  is,  it  is  rather  unusual  for  married 
couples  to  live  permanently  in  furnished  lodgings  in 
London.  People  who  are  too  poor  to  take  a  house 
or  a  flat  commonly  find  it  best  to  take  part  of  a 
house  or  unfurnished  apartments.  There  arc  a  hun- 
dred couples  living  in  unfurnished  rooms  (with  "  the 
use  of  the  kitchen  ")  to  one  in  furnished  in  London. 


174         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

The  absence  of  furniture  predicates  a  dangerous 
want  of  capital  to  the  discreet  landlady.  The  first 
landlady  Lewisham  interviewed  didn't  like  ladies, 
they  required  such  a  lot  of  attendance,  the  second 
was  of  the  same  mind,  the  third  told  Mr.  Lewisham 
he  was  "  youngish  to  be  married,"  the  fourth  said 
she  only  "  did  "  for  single  "  gents."  The  fifth  was  a 
young  person  with  an  arch  manner,  who  liked  to 
know  all  about  people  she  took  in,  and  subjected 
Lewisham  to  a  searching  cross-examination.  When 
she  had  spitted  him  in  a  downright  lie  or  so,,  she  ex- 
pressed an  opinion  that  her  rooms  "  would  scarcely 
do,"  and  bowed  him  amiably  out. 

He  cooled  his  ears  and  cheeks  by  walking  up  and 
down  the  street  for  a  space,  and  then  tried  again. 
This  landlady  was  a  terrible  and  pitiful  person,  so 
grey  and  dusty  she  was,  and  her  face  deep  lined  with 
dust  and  trouble  and  labour.  She  wore  a  dirty  cap 
that  was  all  askew.  She  took  Lewisham  up  into  a 
threadbare  room  on  the  first  floor.  "  There's  the  use 
of  a  piano,"  she  said,  and  indicated  an  instrument 
with  a  front  of  torn  green  silk.  Lewisham  opened 
the  keyboard  and  evoked  a  vibration  of  broken 
strings.  He  took  one  further  survey  of  the  dismal 
place.  "  Eighteen  shillings,"  he  said.  "  Thank  you 
.  .  .  I'll  let  you  know."  The  woman  smiled  with 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  down,  and  without  a  word 
moved  wearily  towards  the  door.     Lewisham  felt  a 


THE  CAREER  IS  SUSPENDED       175 

transient  wonder  at  her  hopeless  position,  but  he  did 
not  pursue  the  inquiry. 

The  next  landlady  sufficed.  She  was  a  clean-look- 
ing German  woman,  rather  smartly  dressed  ;  she  had 
a  fringe  of  flaxen  curls  and  a  voluble  flow  of  words, 
for  the  most  part  recognisably  English.  With  this 
she  sketched  out  remarks.  Fifteen  shillings  was  her 
demand  for  a  minute  bedroom  and  a  small  sitting- 
room,  separated  by  folding  doors  on  the  ground  floor, 
and  hjer  personal  services.  Coals  were  to  be  "  six- 
pence a  kettle,"  she  said — a  pretty  substitute  for 
scuttle.  She  had  not  understood  Lewisham  to  say 
he  was  married.  But  she  had  no  hesitation.  "Aay- 
teen  shillin',"  she  said  imperturbably.  "  Paid  furs 
day  ich  wik  .  .  .  See  ?  "  Mr.  Lewisham  surveyed 
the  rooms  again.  They  looked  clean,  and  the  bonus 
tea  vases,  the  rancid,  gilt-framed  oleographs,  two  toilet 
tidies  used  as  ornaments,  and  the  fact  that  the  chest 
of  drawers  had  been  crowded  out  of  the  bedroom 
into  the  sitting-room,  simply  appealed  to  his  sense 
of  humour.  "  I'll  take  'em  from  Saturday  next,"  he 
said. 

She  was  sure  he  would  like  them  and  proposed  to 
give  him  his  book  forthwith.  She  mentioned  cas- 
ually that  the  previous  lodger  had  been  a  captain 
and  had  stayed  three  years.  (One  never  hears  by 
any  chance  of  lodgers  stopping  for  a  shorter  period.) 
Something  happened  (German)  and  now  he  kept  his 


176         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

carriage — apparently  an  outcome  of  his  stay.  She 
returned  with  a  small  penny  account-book,  a  bottle 
of  ink  and  an  execrable  pen,  wrote  Lewisham's  name 
on  the  cover  of  this,  and  a  receipt  for  eighteen  shil- 
lings on  the  first  page.  She  was  evidently  a  person 
of  considerable  business  aptitude.  Lewisham  paid, 
and  the  transaction  terminated.  "  Szhure  to  be  gom- 
fortable,"  followed  him  comfortingly  to  the  street. 

Then  he  went  on  to  Chelsea  and  interviewed  a 
fatherly  gentleman  at  the  Vestry  offices.  The  father- 
ly gentleman  was  chubby-faced  and  spectacled,  and 
his  manner  was  sympathetic  but  business-like.  He 
"  called  back"  each  item  of  the  interview.  "And 
what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  You  wish  to  be  married ! 
By  licence  ?  " 

"  By  licence." 

"  By  licence  !  " 

And  so  forth.  He  opened  a  book  and  made  neat 
entries  of  the  particulars. 

"  The  lady's  age  ?  " 

"  Twenty-one." 

"  A  very  suitable  age.  .  .  .  for  a  lady." 

He  advised  Lewisham  to  get  a  ring  and  said  he 
would  need  two  witnesses. 

"  Well — "  hesitated  Lewisham. 

"  There  is  always  someone  about,"  said  the  super- 
intendent registrar.  "  And  they  are  quite  used 
to  it." 


THE  CAREER  IS  SUSPENDED        177 

Thursday  and  Friday  Lewisham  passed  in  exceed- 
ingly high  spirits.     No  consciousness  of  the  practical 
destruction  of  the  Career  seems  to  have  troubled  him 
at  this  time.     Doubt  had  vanished  from  his  universe 
for  a  space.     He  wanted  to   dance   along  the  corri- 
dors.    He  felt  curiously  irresponsible  and  threw  up 
an  unpleasant  sort  of  humour  that  pleased  nobody. 
He  wished  Miss  Heydinger  many  happy  returns  of 
the  day,  apropos  of  nothing,  and  he   threw   a  bun 
across  the  refreshment  room  at  Smithers  and  hit  one 
of  the  Art  School  officials.     Both  were  extremely 
silly  things  to  do.    In  the  first  instance  he  was  peni- 
tent immediately  after  the  outrage,  but  in  the  second 
he  added  insult  to  injury  by  going  across  the  room 
and  asking  in  an  offensively  suspicious  manner  if 
anyone  had  seen  his  bun.     He  crawled  under  a  table 
and  found  it  at  last,  rather  dusty  but  quite  eatable, 
under  the  chair  of  a  lady  art  student.     He  sat  down 
by  Smithers  to  eat  it,  while  he  argued  with  the  Art 
official.     The  Art  official  said   the  manners  of  the 
Science    students    were    getting     unbearable,    and 
threatened  to  bring  the  matter  before  the  refresh- 
ment-room   Committee.       Lewisham   said  it  was  a 
pity  to  make  such  a  fuss  about  a  trivial  thing,  and 
proposed  that  the  Art  official  should  throw  his  lunch 
— steak   and  kidney  pudding — across  the   room   at 
him,  Lewisham,  and  so  get  immediate  satisfaction. 

He  then  apologised  to  the  official  and  pointed  out 
12 


178  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

in  extenuation  that  it  was  a  very  long  and  difficult 
shot  he  had  attempted.  The  official  then  drank  a 
crumb,  or  breathed  some  beer,  or  something  of  that 
sort,  and  the  discussion  terminated.  In  the  after- 
noon, however,  Lewisham,  to  his  undying  honour, 
felt  acutely  ashamed  of  himself.  Miss  Heydinger 
would  not  speak  to  him. 

On  Saturday  morning  he  absented  himself  from 
the  schools,  pleading  by  post  a  slight  indisposition, 
and  took  all  his  earthly  goods  to  the  booking 
office  at  Vauxhall  Station.  Chaffery's  sister  lived  at 
Tongham,  near  Farnham,  and  Ethel,  dismissed  a 
week  since  by  Lagune,  had  started  that  morning 
under  her  mother's  maudlin  supervision,  to  begin 
her  new  slavery.  She  was  to  alight  either  at  Farn- 
ham or  Woking,  as  opportunity  arose,  and  to  return 
to  Vauxhall  to  meet  him.  So  that  Lewisham's  vigil 
on  the  main  platform  was  of  indefinite  duration. 

At  first  he  felt  the  exhilaration  of  a  great  ad- 
venture. Then,  as  he  paced  the  long  platform, 
came  a  philosophical  mood,  a  sense  of  entire  de- 
tachment from  the  world.  He  saw  a  bundle  of  up- 
rooted plants  beside  the  portmanteau  of  a  fellow- 
passenger  and  it  suggested  a  grotesque  simile. 
His  roots,  his  earthly  possessions,  were  all  downstairs 
in  the  booking-office.  What  a  flimsy  thing  he  was  ! 
A  box  of  books  and  a  trunk  of  clothes,  some  certifi- 
cates and  scraps  of  paper,  an  entry  here  and  an 


THE  CAREER  IS  SUSPENDED       179 

entry  there,  a  body  not  over  strong — and  the  vast 
multitude  of  people  about  him — against  him — the 
huge  world  in  which  he  found  himself !  Did  it 
matter  anything  to  one  human  soul  save  her  if  he 
ceased  to  exist  forthwith  ?  And  miles  away  per- 
haps she  also  was  feeling  little  and  lonely.  .  .  . 

Would  she  have  trouble  with  her  luggage?  Sup- 
pose her  aunt  were  to  come  to  Farnham  Junction 
to  meet  her?  Suppose  someone  stole  her  purse? 
Suppose  she  came  too  late !  The  marriage  was  to 
take  place  at  two.  .  .  .  Suppose  she  never  came  at 
all !  After  three  trains  in  succession  had  disappoint- 
ed him  his  vague  feelings  of  dread  gave  place  to  a 
profound  depression.  .  .  . 

But  she  came  at  last,  and  it  was  twenty-three 
minutes  to  two.  He  hurried  her  luggage  down- 
stairs, booked  it  with  his  own,  and  in  another 
minute  they  were  in  a  hansom — their  first  experi- 
ence of  that  species  of  conveyance — on  the  way  to 
the  vestry-office.  They  had  said  scarcely  anything 
to  one  another,  save  hasty  directions  from  Lewis- 
ham,  but  their  eyes  were  full  of  excitement,  and 
under  the  apron  of  the  cab  their  hands  were  gripped 
together. 

The  little  old  gentleman  was  business-like  but 
kindly.  They  made  their  vows  to  him,  to  a  little 
black-bearded  clerk  and  a  lady  who  took  off  an  apron 
in  the  nether  part  of  the  building   to   attend.     The 


180         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

little  old  gentleman  made  no  long  speeches.  "You 
are  young  people,"  he  said  slowly,  "  and  life  to- 
gether is  a  difficult  thing.  ...  Be  kind  to  each 
other."  He  smiled  a  little  sadly,  and  held  out  a 
friendly  hand. 

Ethel's  eyes  glistened  and  she  found  she  could 
not  speak. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HOME  ! 

Then  a  furtive  payment  of  witnesses,  and  Lewis- 
ham  was  beside  her.  His  face  was  radiant.  A 
steady  current  of  workers  going  home  to  their  half- 
holiday  rest  poured  along  the  street.  On  the  steps 
before  them  lay  a  few  grains  of  rice  from  some  more 
public  nuptials. 

A  critical  little  girl  eyed  our  couple  curiously  and 
made  some  remark  to  her  ragamuffin  friend. 

"  Not  them,"  said  the  ragamuffin  friend.  "  They've 
only  been  askin'  questions." 

The  ragamuffin  friend  was  no  judge  of  faces. 

They  walked  back  through  the  thronged  streets 
to  Vauxhall  station,  saying  little  to  one  another, 
and  there  Lewisham,  assuming  as  indifferent  a 
manner  as  he  could  command,  recovered  their  pos- 
sessions from  the  booking-office  by  means  of  two 
separate  tickets  and  put  them  aboard  a  four- 
wheeler.  His  luggage  went  outside,  but  the  little 
brown    portmanteau    containing  Ethel's    trousseau 

was  small  enough  to  go  on  the  seat  in  front  of  them. 

181 


182         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

You  must  figure  a  rather  broken-down  four-wheeler 
bearing  the  yellow-painted  box  and  the  experienced 
trunk  and  Mr.  Lewisham  and  all  his  fortunes,  a 
despondent  fitful  horse,  and  a  threadbare  venerable 
driver,  blasphemous  sotto  voce  and  flagellant,  in  an 
ancient  coat  with  capes.  When  our  two  young 
people  found  themselves  in  the  cab  again  a  certain 
stiffness  of  manner  between  them  vanished  and 
there  was  more  squeezing  of  hands.  "  Ethel  Lewis- 
ham"  said  Lewisham  several  times,  and  Ethel  re- 
ciprocated with  "  Husbinder  "  and  "  Hubby  dear/' 
and  took  off  her  glove  to  look  again  in  an  osten- 
tatious manner  at  a  ring.     And  she  kissed  the  ring. 

They  were  resolved  that  their  newly-married  state 
should  not  appear,  and  with  considerable  ceremony 
it  was  arranged  that  he  should  treat  her  with  off- 
hand brusqueness  when  they  arrived  at  their  lodg- 
ing. The  Teutonic  landlady  appeared  in  the  passage 
with  an  amiable  smile  and  the  hope  that  they  had 
had  a  pleasant  journey,  and  became  voluble  with 
promises  of  comfort.  Lewisham  having  assisted 
the  slatternly  general  servant  to  carry  in  his  boxes, 
paid  the  cabman  a  florin  in  a  resolute  manner  and 
followed  the  ladies  into  the  sitting-room. 

Ethel  answered  Madam  Gadow's  inquiries  with 
admirable  self-possession,  followed  her  through  the 
folding-doors  and  displayed  an  intelligent  interest 
in  a  new  spring  mattress.     Presently  the  folding- 


HOME!  '  183 

doors  were  closed  again.  Lewisham  hovered  about 
the  front  room  pulling  his  moustache  and  pretend- 
ing to  admire  the  oleographs,  surprised  to  find  him- 
self trembling.  .  .  . 

The  slatternly  general  servant  reappeared  with 
the  chops  and  tinned  salmon  he  had  asked  Madam 
Gadow  to  prepare  for  them.  He  went  and  stared  out 
of  the  window,  heard  the  door  close  behind  the  girl, 
and  turned  at  a  sound  as  Ethel  appeared  shyly 
through  the  folding-doors. 

She  was  suddenly  domestic.  Hitherto  he  had 
seen  her  without  a  hat  and  jacket  only  on  one  in- 
distinct dramatic  occasion.  Now  she  wore  a  little 
blouse  of  soft,  dark  red  material,  with  a  white  froth 
about  the  wrists  and  that  pretty  neck  of  hers.  And 
her  hair  was  a  new  wonderland  of  curls  and  soft 
strands.  How  delicate  she  looked  and  sweet  as 
she  stood  hesitating  there.  These  gracious  moments 
in  life  !  He  took  two  steps  and  held  out  his  arms. 
She  glanced  at  the  closed  door  of  the  room  and 
came  flitting  towards  him.  ,  .  . 


CHAPTER   XXII 

EPITHALAMY 

For  three  indelible  days  Lewisham's  existence 
was  a  fabric  of  fine  emotions,  life  was  too  wonder- 
ful and  beautiful  for  any  doubts  or  forethought. 
To  be  with  Ethel  was  perpetual  delight — she  as- 
tonished this  sisterless  youngster  with  a  thousand 
feminine  niceties  and  refinements.  She  shamed 
him  for  his  strength  and  clumsiness.  And  the  light 
in  her  eyes  and  the  warmth  in  her  heart  that  lit 
them ! 

Even  to  be  away  from  her  was  a  wonder  and  in 

its  way  delightful.     He  was  no  common  Student, 

he  was  a  man  with  a  Secret  Life.     To  part  from  her 

on  Monday  near  South  Kensington  station  and  go 

up    Exhibition    Road   among  all  the  fellows  who 

lived  in  sordid,  lonely  lodgings  and  were  boys  to 

his  day-old  experience!     To  neglect  one's  work  and 

sit  back  and  dream  of  meeting  again !     To  slip  off 

to  the  shady  churchyard  behind  the  Oratory  when, 

or  even  a  little  before,  the  midday  bell  woke  the 

great  staircase  to  activity,  and  to  meet  a  smiling 
184 


EPITHALAMY  185 

face  and  hear  a  soft  voice  saying  sweet  foolish 
things!  And  after  four  another  meeting  and  the 
walk  home — their  own  home. 

No  little  form  now  went  from  him  and  flitted 
past  a  gas  lamp  down  a  foggy  vista,  taking  his  de- 
sire with  her.  Never  more  was  that  to  be.  Lew- 
isham's  long  hours  in  the  laboratory  were  spent 
largely  in  a  dreamy  meditation,  in — to  tell  the  truth 
— the  invention  of  foolish  terms  of  endearment  : 
"  Dear  Wife,"  "  Dear  Little  Wife  Thing,"  "  Sweet- 
est Dearest  Little  Wife,"  "  Dillywings."  A  pretty 
employment  !  And  these  are  quite  a  fair  specimen 
of  his  originality  during  those  wonderful  days.  A 
moment  of  heart-searching  in  that  particular  mat- 
ter led  to  the  discovery  of  hitherto  undreamt-of 
kindred  with  Swift.  For  Lewisham,  like  Swift  and 
most  other  people,  had  hit  upon  the  Little  Lan- 
guage.    Indeed  it  was  a  very  foolish  time. 

Such  section  cutting  as  he  did  that  third  day  of 
his  married  life — and  he  did  very  little — was  a  thing 
to  marvel  at.  Bindon,  the  botany  professor,  under 
the  fresh  shock  of  his  performance,  protested  to  a 
colleague  in  the  grill  room  that  never  had  a  student 
been  so  foolishly  overrated. 

And  Ethel  too  had  a  fine  emotional  time.  She 
was  mistress  of  a  home, — their  home  together.  She 
shopped  and  was  called  "  Ma'am  "  by  respectful, 
good-looking    shopmen ;    she    designed    meals    and 


1 86         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

copied  out  papers  of  notes  with  a  rich  sense  of  help- 
fulness. And  ever  and  again  she  would  stop  writ- 
ing and  sit  dreaming.  And  for  four  bright  week- 
days she  went  to  and  fro  to  accompany  and  meet 
Lewisham  and  listen  greedily  to  the  latest  fruits 
of  his  imagination. 

The  landlady  was  very  polite  and  conversed  en- 
tertainingly about  the  very  extraordinary  and  dis- 
solute servants  that  had  fallen  to  her  lot.  And 
Ethel  disguised  her  newly  wedded  state  by  a  series 
of  ingenious  prevarications.  She  wrote  a  letter  that 
Saturday  evening  to  her  mother — Lewisham  had 
helped  her  to  write  it — making  a  sort  of  proclama- 
tion of  her  heroic  departure  and  promising  a  speedy 
visit.  They  posted  the  letter  so  that  it  might  not 
be  delivered  until  Monday. 

She  was  quite  sure  with  Lewisham  that  only  the 
possible  dishonour  of  mediumship  could  have  brought 
their  marriage  about — she  sank  the  mutual  attrac- 
tion beyond  even  her  own  vision.  There  was  more 
than  a  touch  of  magnificence,  you  perceive,  about 
this  affair. 

It  was  Lewisham  had  persuaded  her  to  delay  that 
reassuring  visit  until  Monday  night.  "  One  whole 
day  of  honeymoon,"  he  insisted,  was  to  be  theirs. 
In  his  prenuptial  meditations  he  had  not  clearly 
focussed  the  fact  that  even  after  marriage  some  sort 
of  relations  with   Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chaffery  would  still 


EPITHRLAMY.  187 

go  on.  Even  now  he  was  exceedingly  disinclined 
to  face  that  obvious  necessity.  He  foresaw,  in  spite 
of  a  resolute  attempt  to  ignore  it,  that  there  would 
be  explanatory  scenes  of  some  little  difficulty.  But 
the  prevailing  magnificence  carried  him  over  this 
trouble. 

"  Let  us  at  least  have  this  little  time  for  our- 
selves," he  said,  and  that  seemed  to  settle  their 
position. 

Save  for  its  brevity  and  these  intimations  of 
future  trouble  it  was  a  very  fine  time  indeed.  Their 
midday  dinner  together,  for  example — it  was  a  little 
cold  when  at  last  they  came  to  it  on  Saturday — was 
immense  fun.  There  was  no  marked  subsidence  of 
appetite ;  they  ate  extremely  well  in  spite  of  the 
meeting  of  their  souls,  and  in  spite  of  certain  sh  if  tings 
of  chairs  and  hand  claspings  and  similar  delays.  He 
really  made  the  acquaintance  of  her  hands  then  for 
the  first  time,  plump  white  hands  with  short  white 
fingers,  and  the  engagement  ring  had  come  out  of  its 
tender  hiding-place  and  acted  as  keeper  to  the  wed- 
ding ring.  Their  eyes  were  perpetually  flitting 
about  the  room  and  coming  back  to  mutual  smile-. 
All  their  movements  were  faintly  tremulous. 

She  professed  to  be  vastly  interested  and  amused 
by  the  room  and  its  furniture  and  her  position, and 
he  was  delighted  by  her  delight.  She  was  particu- 
larly entertained  by   the    chest  of    drawers  in  the 


188  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

living  room,  and  by  Lewisham's  witticisms  at  the 
toilet  tidies  and  the  oleographs. 

And  after  the  chops  and  the  most  of  the  tinned 
salmon  and  the  very  new  loaf  were  gone  they  fell  to 
with  fine  effect  upon  a  tapioca  pudding.  Their  talk 
was  fragmentary.  "  Did  you  hear  her  call  me 
Madame?  Madame — so!"  "And  presently  I  must 
go  out  and  do  some  shopping.  There  are  all  the 
things  for  Sunday  and  Monday  morning  to  get. 
I  must  make  a  list.  It  will  never  do  to  let  her 
know  how  little  I  know  about  things.  ...  I  wish 
I  knew  more.'* 

At  the  time  Lewisham  regarded  her  confession  of 
domestic  ignorance  as  a  fine  basis  for  facetiousness. 
He  developed  a  fresh  line  of  thought,  and  condoled 
with  her  on  the  inglorious  circumstances  of  their 
wedding.  "  No  bridesmaids,"  he  said;  "no  little 
children  scattering  flowers,  no  carriages,  no  police- 
men to  guard  the  wedding  presents,  nothing  proper 
— nothing  right.  Not  even  a  white  favour.  Only 
you  and  I." 

"  Only  you  and  I.     Oh  !  " 

"  This  is  nonsense,"  said  Lewisham,  after  an 
interval. 

1 '  And  think  what  we  lose  in  the  way  of  speeches, ' 
he  resumed.  "  Cannot  you  imagine  the  best  man 
rising; — '  Ladies  and  gentlemen — the  health  of  the 
bride.'   That  is  what  the  best  man  has  to  do  isn't  it  ?  " 


EPITHALAMY  189 

By  way  of  answer  she  extended  her  hand. 

"  And  do  you  know,"  he  said,  after  that  had  re- 
ceived due  recognition,  "  we  have  never  been  intro- 
duced ! " 

"  Neither  have  we !  "  said  Ethel.  "  Neither  have 
we !     We  have  never  been  introduced  !  " 

For  some  inscrutable  reason  it  delighted  them 
both  enormously  to  think  that  they  had  never  been 
introduced.  .  .  . 

In  the  later  afternoon  Lewisham,  having  unpacked 
his  books  to  a  certain  extent  and  so  forth,  was  visi- 
ble to  all  men,  visibly  in  the  highest  spirits,  carry- 
ing home  Ethel's  shopping.  There  were  parcels  and 
cones  in  blue  and  parcels  in  rough  grey  paper  and  a 
bag  of  confectionery,  and  out  of  one  of  the  side 
pockets  of  that  East-end  overcoat  the  tail  of  a  had- 
dock protruded  from  its  paper.  Under  such  mag- 
nificent sanctions  and  amid  such  ignoble  circum- 
stances did  this  honeymoon  begin. 

On  Sunday  evening  they  went  for  a  long  ram- 
bling walk  through  the  quiet  streets,  coming  out  at 
last  into  Hyde  Park.  The  early  spring  night  was 
mild  and  clear  and  the  kindly  moonlight  was  about 
them.  They  went  to  the  bridge  and  looked  down 
the  Serpentine,  with  the  little  lights  of  Paddington 
yellow  and  remote.  They  stood  there,  dim  little 
figures  and  very  close  together.  They  whispered 
and  became  silent. 


190         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Presently  it  seemed  that  something  passed  and 
Lewisham  began  talking  in  his  magnificent  vein. 
He  likened  the  Serpentine  to  Life,  and  found  Mean* 
ing  in  the  dark  banks  of  Kensington  Gardens  and 
the  remote  bright  lights.  "  The  long  struggle,"  he 
said,  "  and  the  lights  at  the  end," — though  he  really 
did  not  know  what  he  meant  by  the  lights  at  the 
end.  Neither  did  Ethel,  though  the  emotion  was 
indisputable.  "  We  are  Fighting  the  World,"  he 
said,  finding  great  satisfaction  in  the  thought.  "  All 
the  world  is  against  us — and  we  are  fighting  it  all." 

"  We  will  not  be  beaten,"  said  Ethel. 

"How  could  we  be  beaten — together?"  said 
Lewisham.  "  For  you  I  would  fight  a  dozen 
worlds." 

It  seemed  a  very  sweet  and  noble  thing  to  them 
under  the  sympathetic  moonlight,  almost  indeed  too 
easy  for  their  courage,  to  be  merely  fighting  the 
world. 

"  You  'aven't  bin  married  ver*  long,"  said  Madam 
Gadow  with  an  insinuating  smile,  when  she  re- 
admitted Ethel  on  Monday  morning  after  Lewisham 
had  been  swallowed  up  by  the  Schools. 

"  No,  I  haven't  very  long,"  admitted  Ethel. 

"  You  are  ver'  'appy,"  said  Madam  Gadow,  and 
sighed. 

"/was  ver'  'appy,"  said  Madam  Gadow. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

MR.   CHAFFERY  AT   HOME 

The  golden  mists  of  delight  lifted  a  little  on  Mon- 
day, when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  G.  E.  Lewisham  went  to 
call  on  his  mother-in-law  and  Mr.  Chaffery.  Mrs. 
Lewisham  went  in  evident  apprehension,  but  clouds 
of  glory  still  hung  about  Lewisham's  head,  and  his 
manner  was  heroic.  He  wore  a  cotton  shirt  and 
linen  collar,  and  a  very  nice  black  satin  tie  that  Mrs. 
Lewisham  had  bought  on  her  own  responsibility 
during  the  day.  She  naturally  wanted  him  to  look 
all  right. 

Mrs.  Chaffery  appeared  in  the  half  light   of  the 

passage  as  the  top  of  a   grimy    cap  over  Ethel's 

shoulder  and  two  black  sleeves  about  her  neck.     She 

emerged  as  a  small,  middle-aged  woman,  with  a  thin 

little  nose  between  silver-rimmed  spectacles,  a  weak 

mouth  and  perplexed  eyes,  a  queer  little  dust-lined 

woman  with  the  oddest  resemblance    to   Ethel  in 

her  face.     She  was  trembling  visibly  with  nervous 

agitation. 

She    hesitated,    peering,    and    then   kissed    Mr. 

191 


192         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Lewisham  effusively.  "  And  this  is  Mr.  Lewisham  !  " 
she  said  as  she  did  so. 

She  was  the  third  thing  feminine  to  kiss  Lewisham 
since  the  promiscuous  days  of  his  babyhood.  "  I 
was  so  afraid — There  !  "     She   laughed  hysterically. 

"  You'll  excuse  my  saying  that  it's  comforting  to 
see  you — honest  like  and  young.  Not  but  what 
Ethel  .  .  .  He  has  been  something  dreadful,"  said 
Mrs.  Chaffery.  "  You  didn't  ought  to  have  written 
about  that  mesmerising.  And  of  all  letters  that 
which  Jane  wrote — there !  But  he's  waiting  and 
listening — " 

"  Are  we  to  go  downstairs,  Mums  ? "  asked 
Ethel. 

"  He's  waiting  for  you  there,"  said  Mrs.  Chaffery. 
She  held  a  dismal  little  oil  lamp,  and  they  descended 
a  tenebrous  spiral  structure  into  an  underground 
breakfast-room  lit  by  gas  that  shone  through  a 
partially  frosted  globe  with  cut-glass  stars.  That 
descent  had  a  distinctly  depressing  effect  upon 
Lewisham.  He  went  first.  He  took  a  deep  breath 
at  the  door.  What  on  earth  was  Chaffery  going  to 
say?     Not  that  he  cared,  of  course. 

Chaffery  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
trimming  his  finger-nails  with  a  pocket-knife.  His 
gilt  glasses  were  tilted  forward  so  as  to  make  an  in- 
flamed knob  at  the  top  of  his  long  nose,  and  he  re- 
garded Mr.  and  Mrs.   Lewisham   over  them  with — ■ 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  193 

Lewisham  doubted  his  eyes  for  a  moment — but 
it  was  positively  a  smile,  an  essentially  waggish 
smile. 

"  You've  come  back,"  he  said  quite  cheerfully  over 
Lewisham  to  Ethel.  There  was  a  hint  of  falsetto 
in  his  voice. 

"  She  has  called  to  see  her  mother,"  said  Lewis- 
ham.    "  You,  I  believe,  are  Mr.  Chaffery  ?  " 

"  I  would  like  to  know  who  the  Deuce  you  are?  " 
said  Chaffery,  suddenly  tilting  his  head  back  so  as 
to  look  through  his  glasses  instead  of  over  them, 
and  laughing  genially.  "  For  thorough-going  Cheek, 
I'm  inclined  to  think  you  take  the  Cake.  Are  you 
the  Mr.  Lewisham  to  whom  this  misguided  girl 
refers  in  her  letter  ?  " 

"I  am." 

"  Maggie,"  said  Mr.  Chaffery  to  Mrs.  Chaffery, 
"  there  is  a  class  of  being  upon  whom  delicacy  is 
lost — to  whom  delicacy  is  practically  unknown. 
Has  your  daughter  got  her  marriage  lines?" 

"  Mr.  Chaffery  !  "  said  Lewisham,  and  Mrs.  Chaf- 
fery exclaimed,  "  James  !     How  can  you  ?  " 

Chaffery  shut  his  penknife  with  a  click  and 
slipped  it  into  his  vest-pocket.  Then  he  looked  up 
again,  speaking  in  the  same  equal  voice.  "  I  pre- 
sume we  are  civilised  persons  prepared  to  manage 
our    affairs  in  a  civilised  way.      My  stepdaughter 

vanishes  for  two  nights  and  returns  with  an  alleged 
13 


194         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

husband.  I  at  least  am  not  disposed  to  be  care- 
less about  her  legal  position." 

"  You  ought  to  know  her  better — "  began  Lewis, 
ham. 

"  Why  argue  about  it  ? "  said  Chaffery  gaily, 
pointing  a  lean  finger  at  Ethel's  gesture,  "  when 
iihe  has  'em  in  her  pocket  ?  She  may  just  as  well 
show  me  now.  I  thought  so.  Don't  be  alarmed 
at  my  handling  them.  Fresh  copies  can  always  be 
got  at  the  nominal  price  of  two-and-seven.  Thank 
you  .  .  .  Lewisham,  George  Edgar.  One  and 
twenty.  And  .  .  .  You — one  and  twenty  !  I  never 
did  know  your  age,  my  dear,  exactly,  and  now  your 
mother  won't  say.  Student  !  Thank  you.  I  am 
greatly  obliged.  Indeed  I  am  greatly  relieved. 
And  now,  what  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourselves 
in  this  remarkable  affair  ?  " 

"  You  had  a  letter,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  I  had  a  letter  of  excuses — the  personalities  I 
overlook  .  .  .  Yes,  sir — they  were  excuses.  You 
young  people  wanted  to  marry — and  you  seized  an 
occasion.  You  did  not  even  refer  to  the  fact  that 
you  wanted  to  marry  in  your  letter.  Pure  modesty  ! 
But  now  you  have  come  here  married.  It  disor- 
ganises this  household,  it  inflicts  endless  bother 
on  people,  but  never  you  mind  that  !  I'm  not 
blaming  70?/.  Nature's  to  blame  !  Neither  of  you 
know  what  you  are  in  for  yet.     You  will.     You're 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  195 

married  and  that  is  the  great   essential  thing.  . 
(Ethel,  my  dear,  just  put  your  husband's  hat  and  stick 
behind  the  door.)     And  you,  sir,  are  so  good  as  to 
disapprove  of  the  way  in  which  I  earn  my  living?" 

"Well,"   said  Lewisham.     "Yes — I'm   bound  to 
say  I  do." 

"  You    are    really    not    bound    to    say    it.     The 
modesty  of  inexperience  would  excuse  you." 

"  Yes,  but  it  isn't  right — it  isn't  straight." 

"  Dogma,"  said  Chaffery.     "  Dogma  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean   by  dogma  ?  "  asked  Lewis- 
ham. 

"  I  mean,  dogma.  But  we  must  argue  this  out  in 
comfort.  It  is  our  supper  hour,  and  I'm  not  the 
man  to  fight  against  accomplished  facts.  We  have 
intermarried.  There  it  is.  You  must  stop  to  sup- 
per— and  you  and  I  must  thresh  these  things  out. 
We've  involved  ourselves  with  each  other  and  we've 
got  to  make  the  best  of  it.  Your  wife  and  mine 
will  spread  the  board,  and  we  will  go  on  talking. 
Why  not  sit  in  that  chair  instead  of  leaning  on  the 
back?  This  is  a  home — domus — not  a  debating 
society — humble  in  spite  of  my  manifest  frauds.  .  .  . 
That's  better.  And  in  the  first  place  I  hope — I  do 
so  hope  " —  Chaffery  was  suddenly  very  impressive — 
"that  you're  not  a  Dissenter." 

"  Eh  ! "  said  Lewisham,  and  then,  "  No  !    I    am 
not  a  Dissenter." 


196         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  That's  better,"  said  Mr.  Chaffery.  "  I'm  glad 
of  that.  I  was  just  a  little  afraid — .  Something  in 
your  manner.  I  can't  stand  Dissenters.  I've  a 
peculiar  dislike  to  Dissenters.  To  my  mind  it's  the 
great  drawback  of  this  Clapham.  You  see  ...  I 
have  invariably  found  them  deceitful — invariably." 

He  grimaced  and  dropped  his  glasses  with  a  click 
against  his  waistcoat  buttons.  "  I'm  very  glad  of 
that,"  he  said,  replacing  them.  "  The  Dissenter,  the 
Nonconformist  Conscience,  the  Puritan,  you  know, 
the  Vegetarian  and  Total  Abstainer,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing,  I  cannot  away  with  them.  I  have  cleared 
my  mind  of  cant  and  formulae.  I've  a  nature 
essentially  Hellenic.  Have  you  ever  read  Matthew 
Arnold  ? " 

"  Beyond  my  scientific  reading — " 

"  Ah  !  you  should  read  Matthew  Arnold — a  mind 
of  singular  clarity.  In  him  you  would  find  a  certain 
quality  that  is  sometimes  a  little  wanting  in  your 
scientific  men.  They  are  apt  to  be  a  little  too 
phenomenal,  you  know,  a  little  too  objective.  Now 
I  seek  after  noumena.  Noumena,  Mr.  Lewisham  ! 
If  you  follow  me —  ?  " 

He  paused,  and  his  eyes  behind  the  glasses  were 
mildly  interrogative.  Ethel  re-entered  without  her 
hat  and  jacket,  and  with  a  noisy  square  black  tray, 
a  white  cloth,  some  plates  and  knives  and  glasses, 
and  began  to  lay  the  table. 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  197 

"/follow  you,"  said  Lewisham  reddening.  He 
had  not  the  courage  to  admit  ignorance  of  this 
remarkable  word.     "  You  state  your  case." 

"  I  seek  after  noumena"  repeated  ChafTery  with 
great  satisfaction,  and  gesticulated  with  his  hand, 
waving  away  everything  but  that.  "  I  cannot  do 
with  surfaces  and  appearances.  I  am  one  of  those 
nympholepts,  you  know,  nympholepts.  .  .  .  Must 
pursue  the  truth  of  things!  the  elusive  funda- 
mental .  .  .  I  make  a  rule,  I  never  tell  myself  lies — 
never.  There  are  few  who  can  say  that.  To  my 
mind — truth  begins  at  home.  And  for  the  most 
part — stops  there.  Safest  and  seemliest !  you  know. 
With  most  men — with  your  typical  Dissenter  par 
excellence — it's  always  gadding  abroad,  calling  on 
the  neighbours.     You  see  my  point  of  view?  " 

He  glanced  at  Lewisham,  who  was  conscious  of 
an  unwonted  opacity  of  mind.  He  became  wary, 
as  wary  as  he  could  manage  to  be  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment. 

"  It's  a  little  surprising,  you  know,"  he  said  very 
carefully,  u  if  I  may  say  so — and  considering  what 
happened — to  hear  j<?7*  ..." 

"Speaking  of  truth?  Not  when  you  understand 
my  position.  Not  when  you  see  where  I  stand. 
That  is  what  I  am  getting  at.  That  is  what  I  am 
naturally  anxious  to  make  clear  to  you  now  that 
we  have   intermarried,  now   that   you  are  my  step- 


i98  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

son-in-law.  You're  young,  you  know,  you're  young, 
and  you're  hard  and  fast.  Only  years  can  give  a 
mind  tone — mitigate  the  varnish  of  education.  I 
gather  from  this  letter — and  your  face — that  you 
are  one  of  the  party  that  participated  in  that  little 
affair  at  Lagune's." 

He  stuck  out  a  finger  at  a  point  he  had  just  seen. 
"  By-the-bye  ! — That  accounts  for  Ethel,"  he  said. 

Ethel  rapped  down  the  mustard  on  the  table. 
"  It  does,"  she  said,  but  not  very  loudly. 

"But  you  had  met  before  ?  "  said  Chaffery. 

"  At  Whortley,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  I  see,"  said  Chaffery. 

"  I  was  in —  I  was  one  of  those  who  arranged  the 
exposure,"  said  Lewisham.  "And  now  you  have 
raised  the  matter,  I  am  bound  to  say — '' 

"  I  knew,"  interrupted  Chaffery.  "  But  what  a 
shock  that  was  for  Lagune  !  "  He  looked  down  at 
his  toes  for  a  moment  with  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
tucked  in.  "  The  hand  dodge  wasn't  bad,  you 
know,"  he  said   with  a  queer  sidelong  smile. 

Lewisham  was  very  busy  for  a  moment  trying  to 
get  this  remark  in  focus.  "  I  don't  see  it  in  the 
same  light  as  you  do,"  he  explained  at  last. 

"  Can't  get  away  from  your  moral  bias,  eh  ? — Well, 
well.  We'll  go  into  all  that.  But  apart  from  its  moral 
merits — simply  as  an  artistic  trick — it  was  not  bad." 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  tricks — " 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  199 

"  So  few  who  undertake  exposures  do.  You  admit 
you  never  heard  or  thought  of  that  before — the 
bladder,  I  mean.  Yet  it's  as  obvious  as  tintacks  that 
a  medium  who's  hampered  at  his  hands  will  do  all 
he  can  with  his  teeth,  and  what  could  be  so  self- 
evident  as  a  bladder  under  one's  lappel  ?  What 
could  be  ?  Yet  I  know  psychic  literature  pretty 
well  and  it's  never  been  suggested  even  !  Never. 
It's  a  perpetual  surprise  to  me  how  many  things  are 
not  thought  of  by  investigators.  For  one  thing, 
they  never  count  the  odds  against  them,  and  that 
puts  them  wrong  at  the  start.  Look  at  it !  I  am 
by  nature  tricky.  I  spend  all  my  leisure  standing 
or  sitting  about  and  thinking  up  or  practising  new 
little  tricks,  because  it  amuses  me  immensely  to  do 
so.  The  whole  thing  amuses  me.  Well — what  is 
the  result  of  these  meditations  ?  Take  one  thing  : — 
I  know  eight  and  forty  ways  of  making  raps — of 
which  at  least  ten  are  original.  Ten  original  ways 
-of  making  raps."  His  manner  was  very  impressive. 
"And,  some  of  them  simply  tremendous  raps. 
There  !  " 

A  confirmatory  rap  exploded — as  it  seemed  be- 
tween Lewisham  and  Chaffery. 

"Eh?"  said  Chaffery. 

The  mantelpiece  opened  a  dropping  fire,  and  the 
table  went  off  under  Lewisham's  nose  like  a  cracker. 

"You    see?"    said    Chaffery,    putting   his   hands 


200         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

under  the  tail  of  his  coat.  The  whole  room  seemed 
snapping  its  fingers  at  Lewisham  for  a  space. 

"  Very  well,  and  now  take  the  other  side.  Take 
the  severest  test  I  ever  tried.  Two  respectable 
professors  of  physics — not  Newtons,  you  under- 
stand, but  good,  worthy,  self-important  professors  of 
physics — a  lady  anxious  to  prove  there's  a  life  be- 
yond the  grave,  a  journalist  who  wants  stuff  to  write 
— a  person,  that  is,  who  gets  his  living  by  these 
researches  just  as  I  do — undertook  to  test  me. 
Test  me  !  .  .  .  Of  course  they  had  their  other  work 
to  do,  professing  physics,  professing  religion,  organ- 
ising research,  and  so  forth.  At  the  outside  they 
don't  think  an  hour  a  day  about  it,  and  most  of 
them  had  never  cheated  anybody  in  their  existence, 
and  couldn't,  for  example,  travel  without  a  ticket 
for  a  three-mile  journey  and  not  get  caught,  to  save 
their  lives.  .  .  .  Well — you  see  the  odds  ?  " 

He  paused.  Lewisham  appeared  involved  in 
some  interior  struggle. 

"You  know,"  explained  Chaffery,  "  it  was  quite 
an  accident  you  got  me — quite.  The  thing  slipped 
out  of  my  mouth.  Or  your  friend  with  the  flat 
voice  wouldn't  have  had  a  chance.     Not  a  chance." 

Lewisham  spoke  like  a  man  who  is  lifting  a 
weight.  "All  this,  you  know,  is  off  the  question. 
I'm  not  disputing  your  ability.  But  the  thing  is 
...  it  isn't  right." 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  201 

"We're  corning  to  that,"  said  Chaffery. 

"  It's  evident  we  look  at   things   in   a  different 

light.- 

"  That's  it.  That's  just  what  we've  got  to  discuss. 
Exactly !  " 

11  Cheating  is  cheating.  You  can't  get  away  from 
that.     That's  simple  enough." 

"Wait  till  I've  done  with  it,"  said  Chaffery  with 
a  certain  zest.  "  Of  course  it's  imperative  you 
should  understand  my  position.  It  isn't  as  though 
I  hadn't  one.  Ever  since  I  read  your  letter  I've 
been  thinking  over  that.  Really  ! — a  justification  ! 
In  a  way  you  might  almost  say  I  had  a  mission. 
A  sort  of  prophet.  You  really  don't  see  the  begin- 
ning of  it  yet." 

"Oh,  but  hang  it ! "  protested  Lewisham. 

"Ah!  you're  young,  you're  crude.  My  dear 
young  man,  you're  only  at  the  beginning  of  things. 
You  really  must  concede  a  certain  possibility  of 
wider  views  to  a  man  more  than  twice  your  age. 
But  here's  supper.  For  a  little  while  at  any  rate 
we'll  call  a  truce." 

Ethel  had  come  in  again  bearing  an  additional 
chair,  and  Mrs.  Chaffery  appeared  behind  her,  crown- 
ing the  preparations  with  a  jug  of  small  beer.  The 
cloth,  Lewisham  observed,  as  he  turned  towards  it, 
had  several  undarned  holes  and  discoloured  places, 
and  in   the  centre  stood   a  tarnished   cruet  which 


202         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

contained  mustard,  pepper,  vinegar,  and  three  am- 
biguous dried-up  bottles.  The  bread  was  on  an 
ample  board  with  a  pious  rim,  and  an  honest  wedge 
of  cheese  loomed  disproportionate  on  a  little  plate. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewisham  were  seated  facing  one  an- 
other, and  Mrs.  Chaffery  sat  in  the  broken  chair 
because  she  understood  its  ways. 

"This  cheese  is  as  nutritious  and  unattractive 
and  indigestible  as  Science,"  remarked  Chaffery, 
cutting  and  passing  wedges.  "  But  crush  it — so — 
under  your  fork,  add  a  little  of  this  good  Dorset 
butter,  a  dab  of  mustard,  pepper — the  pepper  is  very 
necessary — and  some  malt  vinegar,  and  crush  to- 
gether. You  get  a  compound  called  Crab  and  by 
no  means  disagreeable.  So  the  wise  deal  with  the 
facts  of  life,  neither  bolting  nor  rejecting,  but 
adapting." 

"  As  though  pepper  and  mustard  were  not  facts," 
said  Lewisham,  scoring  his  solitary  point  that 
evening. 

Chaffery  admitted  the  collapse  of  his  image  in 
very  complimentary  terms,  and  Lewisham  could  not 
avoid  a  glance  across  the  table  at  Ethel.  He  re- 
membered that  Chaffery  was  a  slippery  scoundrel 
whose  blame  was  better  than  his  praise,  immediately 
afterwards. 

For  a  time  the  Crab  engaged  Chaffery,  and  the 
conversation  languished.     Mrs.  Chaffery  asked  Ethel 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  203 

formal  questions  about  their  lodgings,  and  Ethel's 
answers  were  buoyant.  "  You  must  come  and 
have  tea  one  day,"  said  Ethel,  not  waiting  for  Lew- 
isham's  endorsement,  "  and  see  it  all." 

Chaffery  astonished  Lewisham  by  suddenly  dis- 
playing a  complete  acquaintance  with  his  status  as 
a  South  Kensington  teacher  in  training.  "  I  sup- 
pose you  have  some  money  beyond  that  guinea," 
said  Chaffery   off-handedly. 

"  Enough  to  go  on  with,"  said  Lewisham  reddem 
ing. 

"  And  you  look  to  them  at  South  Kensington  to- 
do  something  for  you — a  hundred  a  year  or  so, 
when  your  scholarship  is  up  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lewisham  a  little  reluctantly.  "  Yes. 
A  hundred  a  year  or  so.  That's  the  sort  of  idea. 
And  there's  lots  of  places  beyond  South  Kensing- 
ton, of  course,  even  if  they  don't  put  me  up 
there." 

"I  see,"  said  Chaffery;  "  but  it  will  be  a  pretty 
close  shave  for  all  that — one  hundred  a  year.  Well, 
well — there's  many  a  deserving  man  has  to  do  with 
less,"  and  after  a  meditative  pause  he  asked  Lewis- 
ham to  pass  the  beer. 

"  Hev  you  a  mother  living,  Mr.  Lewisham  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Chaffery  suddenly,  and  pursued  him  through 
the  tale  of  his  connexions.  When  he  came  to  the 
plumber,    Mrs.  Chaffery    remarked    with  an    unex- 


204         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

pected  air  of  consequence,  that  most  families  have 
their  poor  relations.  Then  the  air  of  consequence 
vanished  again  into  the  past  from  which  it  had 
arisen. 

Supper  finished,  Chaffery  poured  the  residuum  of 
the  beer  into  his  glass,  produced  a  Broseley  clay  of 
the  longest  sort,  and  invited  Lewisham  to  smoke. 
"  Honest  smoking,"  said  Chaffery,  tapping  the  bowl 
of  his  clay,  and  added  :  "  In  this  country — cigars — 
sound  cigars — and  honesty  rarely  meet." 

Lewisham  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  his  Algerian 
cigarettes,  and  Chaffery  having  regarded  them  un- 
favourably through  his  glasses,  took  up  the  thread 
of  his  promised  apologia.  The  ladies  retired  to 
wash  up  the  supper  things. 

"You  see,"  said  Chaffery,  opening  abruptly  so 
soon  as  the  clay  was  drawing,  "  about  this  cheat- 
ing—  I  do  not  find  life  such  a  simple  matter  as 
you  do." 

"/don't  find  life  simple,"  said  Lewisham,  "but 
I  do  think  there's  a  Right  and  a  Wrong  in  things. 
And  I  don't  think  you  have  said  anything  so  far  to 
show  that  spiritualistic  cheating  is  Right." 

"  Let  us  thresh  the  matter  out,"  said  Chaffery, 
crossing  his  legs;  "let  us  thresh  the  matter  out. 
Now  " — he  drew  at  his  pipe — "  I  don't  think  you 
fully  appreciate  the  importance  of  Illusion  in  life, 
the  Essential  Nature  of  Lies  and  Deception  of  the 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  205 

body  politic.  You  are  inclined  to  discredit  one  par- 
ticular form  of  Imposture,  because  it  is  not  gener- 
ally admitted — carries  a  certain  discredit,  and — wit- 
ness the  heel  edges  of  my  trouser  legs,  witness 
yonder  viands — small  rewards." 

"  It's  not  that,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  Now  I  am  prepared  to  maintain,"  said  Chaffery, 
proceeding  with  his  proposition,  "  that  Honesty  is 
essentially  an  anarchistic  and  disintegrating  force 
in  society,  that  communities  are  held  together  and 
the  progress  of  civilisation  made  possible  only  by 
vigorous  and  sometimes  even  violent  Lying  ;  that 
the  Social  Contract  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a 
vast  conspiracy  of  human  beings  to  lie  to  and  hum- 
bug themselves  and  one  another  for  the  general 
Good.  Lies  are  the  mortar  that  bind  the  savage  in- 
dividual man  into  the  social  masonry.  There  is  the 
general  thesis  upon  which  I  base  my  justification. 
My  mediumship,  I  can  assure  you,  is  a  particular 
instance  of  the  general  assertion.  Were  I  not  of  a 
profoundly  indolent,  restless,  adventurous  nature, 
and  horribly  averse  to  writing,  I  would  make  a  great 
book  of  this  and  live  honoured  by  every  profound 
duffer  in  the  world." 

"  But  how  are  you  going  to  prove  it  ? " 

"  Prove  it!  It  simply  needs  pointing  out.  Even 
now  there  are  men — Bernard  Shaw,  Ibsen,  and  such 
like — who  have  seen  bits  of  it  in  a  new-gospel-grub- 


206         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

bing  sort  of  fashion.  What  is  man  ?  Lust  and 
greed  tempered  by  fear  and  an  irrational  vanity." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  that,"  said  Mr.  Lewisham. 

"  You  will  as  you  grow  older,"  said  Chaffery. 
"  There's  truths  you  have  to  grow  into.  But  about 
this  matter  of  Lies — let  us  look  at  the  fabric  of 
society,  let  us  compare  the  savage.  You  will  dis- 
cover the  only  essential  difference  between  savage 
and  civilised  is  this:  The  former  hasn't  learnt  to 
shirk  the  truth  of  things,  and  the  latter  has.  Take 
the  most  obvious  difference — the  clothing  of  the 
civilised  man,  his  invention  of  decency.  What  is 
clothing  ?  The  concealment  of  essential  facts. 
What  is  decorum  ?  Suppression !  I  don't  argue 
against  decency  and  decorum,  mind  you,  but  there 
they  are — essentials  to  civilisation  and  essentially 
1  suppressio  veri.'  And  in  the  pockets  of  his  clothes 
our  citizen  carries  money.  The  pure  savage  has  no 
money.  To  him  a  lump  of  metal  is  a  lump  of 
metal  —  possibly  ornamental  —  no  more.  That's 
right.  To  any  lucid-minded  man  it's  the  same  or 
different  only  through  the  gross  folly  of  his  fellows. 
But  to  the  common  civilised  man  the  universal  ex- 
changeability of  this  gold  is  a  sacred  and  funda- 
mental fact.  Think  of  it  !  Why  should  it  be  ? 
There  isn't  a  why  !  I  live  in  perpetual  amazement 
at  the  gullibility  of  my  fellow-creatures.  Of  a 
morning  sometimes,  I  can  assure  you,  I  lie  in  bed 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  207 

fancying  that  people  may  have  found  out  this 
swindle  in  the  night,  expect  to  hear  a  tumult  down- 
stairs and  see  your  mother-in-law  come  rushing  into 
the  room  with  a  rejected  shilling  from  the  milkman. 
4  What's  this?'  says  he.  'This  Muck  for  milk?' 
But  it  never  happens.  Never.  If  it  did,  if  people 
suddenly  cleared  their  minds  of  this  cant  of  money, 
what  would  happen  ?  The  true  nature  of  man 
would  appear.  I  should  whip  out  of  bed,  seize 
some  weapon,  and  after  the  milkman  forthwith.  It's 
becoming  to  keep  the  peace,  but  it's  necessary  to 
have  milk.  The  neighbours  would  come  pouring 
out — also  after  milk.  Milkman,  suddenly  enlight- 
ened, would  start  clattering  up  the  street.  After 
him  !  Clutch — tear !  Got  him  !  Over  goes  the 
cart !  Fight  if  you  like,  but  don't  upset  the  can ! 
.  .  .  Don't  you  see  it  all — perfectly  reasonable  every 
bit  of  it.  I  should  return,  bruised  and  bloody,  with 
the  milk-can  under  my  arm.  Yes — /  should  have 
the  milk-can — I  should  keep  my  eye  on  that.  .  .  . 
But  why  go  "on?  You  of  all  men  should  know 
that  life  is  a  struggle  for  existence,  a  fight  for 
food.  Money  is  just  the  lie  that  mitigates  our 
fury." 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham  ;  "  no  !  I'm  not  prepared 
to  admit  that." 

11  What  is  money  ?  " 

Mr.  Lewisham    dodged.     "  You    state  your  case 


208         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM  , 

first,"  he  said.      "I   really   don't  see  what  all  this 
has  to  do  with  cheating  at  a  seance." 

ill  weave  my  defence  from  this  loom,  though. 
Take  some  aggressively  respectable  sort  of  man — 
a  bishop,  for  example." 

"Well,"  said  Lewisham,  "I  don't  much  hold 
with  bishops." 

"  It  doesn't  matter.  Take  a  professor  of  science, 
walking  the  earth.  Remark  his  clothing,  making  a 
decent  citizen  out  of  him,  concealing  the  fact  that 
physically  he  is  a  flabby,  pot-bellied  degenerate. 
That  is  the  first  Lie  of  his  being.  No  fringes  round 
his  trousers,  my  boy.  Notice  his  hair,  groomed 
and  clipped,  the  tacit  lie  that  its  average  length  is 
half  an  inch,  whereas  in  nature  he  would  wave  a 
few  score  yard-long  hairs  of  ginger  grey  to  the 
winds  of  heaven.  Notice  the  smug  suppressions  of 
his  face.  In  his  mouth  are  Lies  in  the  shape  of 
false  teeth.  Then  on  the  earth  somewhere  poor 
devils  are  toiling  to  get  him  meat  and  corn  and 
wine.  He  is  clothed  in  the  lives  of  bent  and 
thwarted  weavers,  his  way  is  lit  by  phossy  jaw,  he 
eats  from  lead-glazed  crockery — all  his  ways  are 
paved  with  the  lives  of  men.  .  .  .  Think  of  the 
chubby,  comfortable  creature !  And,  as  Swift  has 
it — to  think  that  such  a  thing  should  deal  in  pride! 
.  .  .  He  pretends  that  his  blessed  little  researches 
are  in  some  way  a  fair  return  to  these  remote  beings 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  209 

for  their  toil,  their  suffering;  pretends  that  he  and 
his  parasitic  career  are  payment  for  their  thwarted 
desires.  Imagine  him  bullying  his  gardener  over 
some  transplanted  geraniums,  the  thick  mist  of  lies 
they  stand  in,  so  that  the  man  does  not  immediately, 
with  the  edge  of  a  spade  smite  down  his  imperti- 
nence to  the  dust  from  which  it  rose.  .  .  .  And  his 
case  is  the  case  of  all  comfortable  lives.  What  a 
lie  and  sham  all  civility  is,  all  good  breeding,  all 
culture  and  refinement,  while  one  poor  ragged 
wretch  drags  hungry  on  the  earth !  " 

"  But  this  is  Socialism  !  "  said  Lewisham.    "/ — " 

"  No  Ism,"  said  Chaffery,  raising  his  rich  voice. 
"Only  the  ghastly  truth  of  things — the  truth  that 
the  warp  and  the  woof  of  the  world  of  men  is  Lying. 
Socialism  is  no  remedy,  no  ism  is  a  remedy ;  things 
are  so." 

"  I  don't  agree — "  began  Lewisham. 

"  Not  with  the  hopelessness,  because  you  are 
young,  but  with  the  description  you  do." 

"  Well — within  limits." 

"  You  agree  that  most  respectable  positions  in  the 
world  are  tainted  with  the  fraud  of  our  social  con 
ditions.      If  they  were  not  tainted  with   fraud   th 
would   not    be   respectable.      Even   your  own   posi- 
tion— Who   gave  you   the  right  to  marry  and  prose- 
cute interesting  scientific  studies  while  other  young 

men  rot  in  mines  ?  " 
14 


210         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  I  admit—" 

"You  can't  help  admitting.  And  here  is  my 
position.  Since  all  ways  of  life  are  tainted  with 
fraud,  since  to  live  and  speak  the  truth  is  beyond 
human  strength  and  courage — as  one  finds  it — is  it 
not  better  for  a  man  that  he  engage  in  some 
straightforward  comparatively  harmless  cheating, 
than  if  he  risk  his  mental  integrity  in  some  ambigu- 
ous position  and  fall  at  last  into  self-deception 
and  self-righteousness?  That  is  the  essential  dan- 
ger. That  is  the  thing  I  always  guard  against. 
Heed  that !  It  is  the  master  sin.  Self-righteous- 
ness." 

Mr.  Lewisham  pulled  at  his  moustache. 

"  You  begin  to  take  me.  And  after  all,  these 
worthy  people  do  not  suffer  so  greatly.  If  I  did 
not  take  their  money  some  other  impostor  would. 
Their  huge  conceit  of  intelligence  would  breed  per- 
haps some  viler  swindle  than  my  facetious  rappings. 
That's  the  line  our  doubting  bishops  take,  and  why 
shouldn't  I  ?  For  example,  these  people  might  give 
it  to  Public  Charities,  minister  to  the  fattened 
secretary,  the  prodigal  younger  son.  After  all,  at 
worst,  I  am  a  sort  of  latter-day  Robin  Hood ;  I 
take  from  the  rich  according  to  their  incomes.  I 
don't  give  to  the  poor  certainly,  I  don't  get  enough. 
But — there  are  other  good  works.  Many  a  poor 
weakling  have  I  comforted  with  Lies,  great  thump- 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME.  211 

ing,  silly  Lies,  about  the  grave  !  Compare  me  with 
one  of  those  rascals  who  disseminate  phossy  jaw 
and  lead  poisons,  compare  me  with  a  millionaire 
who  runs  a.  music  hall  with  an  eye  to  feminine  talent, 
or  an  underwriter,  or  the  common  stockbroker.  Or 
any  sort  of  lawyer.  .  .  . 

"  There  are  bishops,"  said  Chaffery,  "who  believe 
in  Darwin  and  doubt  Moses.  Now,  I  hold  myself 
better  than  they — analogous  perhaps  but  better — for 
I  do  at  least  invent  something  of  the  tricks  I  play — 
I  do  do  that." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  began  Lewisham. 

"  I  might  forgive  them  their  dishonesty,"  said 
Chaffery,  "  but  the  stupidity  of  it,  the  mental  self- 
abnegation — Lord  !  If  a  solicitor  doesn't  swindle 
in  the  proper  shabby-magnificent  way,  they  chuck 
him  for  unprofessional  conduct."  He  paused.  He 
became  meditative,  and  smiled  faintly. 

"  Now,  some  of  my  dodges,"  he  said  with  a 
sudden  change  of  voice,  turning  towards  Lewisham, 
his  eyes  smiling  over  his  glasses  and  an  emphatic 
hand  patting  the  table-cloth  ;  "  some  of  my  dodges 
are  damned  ingenious,  you  know — damned  ingen- 
ious— and  well  worth  double  the  money  they  bring 
me — double." 

He  turned  towards  the  fire  again,  pulling  at  his 
smouldering  pipe  and  eyeing  Lewisham  over  the 
corner  of  his  glasses. 


212  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  One  or  two  of  my  little  things  would  make 
Maskelyne  sit  up,"  he  said  presently.  "  They  would 
set  that  mechanical  orchestra  playing  out  of  pure 
astonishment.  I  really  must  explain  some  of  them 
to  you — now  we  have  intermarried." 

It  took  Mr.  Lewisham  a  minute  or  so  to  re-form 
the  regiment  of  his  mind,  disordered  by  its  head- 
long pursuit  of  Chaffery's  flying  arguments.  "  But 
on  your  principles  you  might  do  almost  anything!  " 
he  said. 

"  Precisely  !  "  said  Chaffery. 

"  But—" 

"  It  is  rather  a  curious  method,"  protested  Chaf- 
fery ;  "  to  test  one's  principles  of  action  by  judging 
the  resultant  actions  on  some  other  principle,  isn't 
it?" 

Lewisham  took  a  moment  to  think.  "  I  suppose 
that  is  so,"  he  said,  in  the  manner  of  a  man  con- 
vinced against  his  will. 

He  perceived  his  logic  insufficient.  He  suddenly 
thrust  the  delicacies  of  argument  aside.  Certain 
sentences  he  had  brought  ready  for  use  in  his  mind 
came  up  and  he  delivered  them  abruptly.  "  Any- 
how," he  said,  "  I  don't  agree  with  this  cheating. 
In  spite  of  what  you  say,  I  hold  to  what  I  said  in 
my  letter.  Ethel's  connexion  with  all  these  things 
is  at  an  end.  I  shan't  go  out  of  my  way  to  expose 
you,  of  course,  but  if  it  comes  in    my  way  I  shall 


MR.    CHAFFERY  AT   HOME.        213 

speak  my  mind  of  all  these  spiritualistic  phenomena. 
It's  just  as  well  that  we  should  know  clearly  where 
we  are." 

"That  is  clearly  understood,  my  dear  step-son-in- 
law,"  said  Chaffery.  "  Our  present  object  is  dis- 
cussion." 

"  But  Ethel—" 

"  Ethel  is  yours,"  said  Chaffery.  "  Ethel  is 
yours,"  he  repeated  after  an  interval,  and  added 
pensively, — "  to  keep." 

"But  talking  of  Illusion,"  he  resumed,  dismiss- 
ing the  sordid  with  a  sign  of  relief,  "  I  sometimes 
think  with  Bishop  Berkeley,  that  all  experience  is 
probably  something  quite  different  from  reality. 
That  consciousness  is  essentially  hallucination.  I, 
here,  and  you,  and  our  talk — it  is  all  Illusion.  Bring 
your  Science  to  bear — what  am  I  ?  A  cloudy  multi- 
tude of  atoms,  an  infinite  interplay  of  little  cells. 
Is  this  hand  that  I  hold  out  me  ?  This  head  ? 
Is  the  surface  of  my  skin  any  more  than  a  rude  aver- 
age boundary?  You  say  it  is  my  mind  that  is  me  ? 
But  consider  the  war  of  motives.  Suppose  I  have 
an  impulse  that  I  resist — it  is  /  resist  it — the  im- 
pulse is  outside  me,  eh  ?  But  suppose  that  impulse 
carries  me  and  I  do  the  thing — that  impulse  is  part 
of  me,  is  it  not  ?  Ah  !  My  brain  reels  at  these  mys- 
teries! Lord!  what  flimsy  fluctuating  things  we 
are — first  this,  then  that,  a  thought,  an   impulse,  a 


214         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

deed  and  a  forgetting,  and  all  the  time  madly  cock- 
sure we  are  ourselves.  And  as  for  you — you  who 
have  hardly  learned  to  think  for  more  than  five  or 
six  short  years,  there  you  sit,  assured,  coherent, 
there  you  sit  in  all  your  inherited  original  sin, — 
Hallucinatory  Windlestraw  ! — judging  and  condemn- 
ing. You  know  Right  from  Wrong  !  My  boy,  so 
did  Adam  and  Eve  .  .  .  so  soon  as  theyd  had  deal- 
ings  with  the  father  of  lies  /  " 

At  the  end  of  the  evening  whiskey  and  hot  water 
were  produced,  and  Chaffery,  now  in  a  mood  of 
great  urbanity,  said  he  had  rarely  enjoyed  anyone's 
conversation  so  much  as  Lewisham's,  and  insisted 
upon  everyone  having  whiskey.  Mrs.  Chaffery  and 
Ethel  added  sugar  and  lemon.  Lewisham  felt  an 
instantaneous  mild  surprise  at  the  sight  of  Ethel 
drinking  grog. 

At  the  door  Mrs.  Chaffery  kissed  Lewisham  an 
effusive  good-bye  and  told  Ethel  she  really  believed 
it  was  all  for  the  best. 

On  the  way  home  Lewisham  was  thoughtful  and 
preoccupied.  The  problem  of  Chaffery  assumed 
enormous  proportions.  At  times  indeed  even  that 
good  man's  own  philosophical  sketch  of  himself  as 
a  practical  exponent  of  mental  sincerity  touched 
with  humour  and  the  artistic  spirit,  seemed  plaus- 
ible.    Lagune  was  an  undeniable  ass,  and  conceiv- 


MR.  CHAFFERY  AT  HOME  215 

ably  psychic  research  was  an  incentive  to  trickery. 
Then  he  remembered  the  matter  in  his  relation  to 
Ethel.  .  .  . 

"Your  stepfather  is  a  little  hard  to  follow,"  he 
said  at  last,  sitting  on  the  bed  and  taking  off  one 
boot.  "  He's  dodgy — he's  so  confoundedly  dodgy. 
One  doesn't  know  where  to  take  hold  of  him.  He's 
got  such  a  break  he's  clean  bowled  me  again  and 
again." 

He  thought  for  a  space,  and  then  removed  his 
boot  and  sat  with  it  on  his  knee.  "  Of  course!  .  .  . 
all  that  he  said  was  wrong — quite  wrong.  Right  is 
right  and  cheating  is  cheating,  whatever  you  say 
about  it." 

"  That's  what  I  feel  about  him,"  said  Ethel  at  the 
looking-glass.  "  That's  exactly  how  it  seems  to 
me. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE   CAMPAIGN   OPENS 

On  Saturday  Lewisham  was  first  through  the 
folding  doors.  In  a  moment  he  reappeared  with  a 
document  extended.  Mrs.  Lewisham  stood  arrested 
with  her  dress  skirt  in  her  hand,  astonished  at  the 
astonishment  on  his  face.  "  /  say  !  "  said  Lewis- 
ham ;  "  just  look  here  !  " 

She  looked  at  the  book  that  he  held  open  before 
her,  and  perceived  that  its  vertical  ruling  betokened 
a  sordid  import,  that  its  list  of  items  in  an  illegible 
mixture  of  English  and  German  was  lengthy.  "  I 
kettle  of  coals  6d."  occurred  regularly  down  that 
portentous  array  and  buttoned  it  all  together.  It 
was  Madam  Gadow's  first  bill.  Ethel  took  it  out 
of  his  hand  and  examined  it  closer.  It  looked  no 
smaller  closer.  The  overcharges  were  scandalous. 
It  was  curious  how  the  humour  of  calling  a  scuttle 
"  kettle  "  had  evaporated. 

That  document,  I  take  it,  was  the    end  of  Mr. 

Lewisham's  informal  honeymoon.     It's  advent  was 
216 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  217 

the  snap  of  that  bright  Prince  Rupert's  drop  ;  and 
in  a  moment — Dust.  For  a  glorious  week  he  had 
lived  in  the  persuasion  that  life  was  made  of  love 
and  mystery,  and  now  he  was  reminded  with  singu- 
lar clearness  that  it  was  begotten  of  a  struggle  for 
existence  and  the  Will  to  Live.  "  Confounded  im- 
position ! "  fumed  Mr.  Lewisham,  and  the  break- 
fast table  was  novel  and  ominous,  mutterings  to- 
wards anger  on  the  one  hand  and  a  certain  con- 
sternation on  the  other.  "  I  must  give  her  a  talk- 
ing to  this  afternoon,"  said  Lewisham  at  his  watch, 
and  after  he  had  bundled  his  books  into  the  shiny 
black  bag,  he  gave  the  first  of  his  kisses  that  was 
not  a  distinct  and  self-subsisting  ceremony.  It  was 
usage  and  done  in  a  hurry,  and  the  door  slammed 
as  he  went  his  way  to  the  schools.  Ethel  was  not 
coming  that  morning,  because  by  special  request 
and  because  she  wanted  to  help  him  she  was  going 
to  copy  out  some  of  his  botanical  notes  which  had 
fallen  into  arrears. 

On  his  way  to  the  schools  Lewisham  felt  some- 
thing suspiciously  near  a  sinking  of  the  heart.  His 
pre-occupation  was  essentially  arithmetical.  The 
thing  that  engaged  his  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
other  matters  is  best  expressed  in  the  recognised 
business  form. 


218 


LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 


Dr. 

£  s.  d. 

Mr.  L.  C 

13  10  \yz 

Cash  in  hand             ■] 

Mrs.  L.  ( 

11  7 

At  Bank  45    o  o 

To  Scholarship         1    1  0 


£60.  3  n}£ 


Cr.  £    s.    & 

By  'bus  fares  to 
South  Kensing- 
ton   (late) 2 

By  6  lunches  at  the 

Students'  Club..         5     z% 

By  2  packets  of 
cigarettes  (to 
smoke  after  din- 
ner)   6 

By  marriage  and 
elopement 418  10 

By  necessary  subse- 
quent additions 
to  bride's  trous- 
seau        16    1 

By  housekeeping  exs.  1      1  4^ 

By  "A  few  little 
things  "  bought  by 
housekeeper 15     yA 

By  Madam  Gadow 
for  coal,  lodging 
and  attendance 
(as  per  account 
rendered) 115    o 

By  missing 4 

By  balance 50  1 1     2 


£60.  3     11^ 


From  this  it  will  be  manifest  to  the  most  un- 
business  like  that,  disregarding  the  extraordinary  ex- 
penditure on  the  marriage,  and  the  by  no  means  final 
"  few  little  things  "  Ethel  had  bought,  out-goings 
exceeded  income  by  two  pounds  and  more,  and  a 
brief  excursion  into  arithmetic  will  demonstrate  that 
in  five  and  twenty  weeks  the  balance  of  the  account 
would  be  nothing. 

But  that  guinea  a  week  was  not  to  go  on  for  five 
and  twenty  weeks,  but  simply  for  fifteen,  and  then 
the  net  outgoings  will  be  well  over  three  guineas, 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  219 

reducing  the  "law"  accorded  our  young  couple  to 
two  and  twenty  weeks.  These  details  are  tiresome 
and  disagreeable,  no  doubt,  to  the  refined  reader, 
but  just  imagine  how  much  more  disagreeable  they 
were  to  Mr.  Lewisham,  trudging  meditative  to  the 
schools.  You  will  understand  his  slipping  out  of 
the  laboratory,  and  betaking  himself  to  the  Edu- 
cational Reading-room,  and  how  it  was  that  the 
observant  Smithers,  grinding  his  lecture  notes 
against  the  now  imminent  second  examination  for 
the  "  Forbes,"  was  presently  perplexed  to  the  centre 
of  his  being  by  the  spectacle  of  Lewisham,  intent 
upon  a  pile  of  current  periodicals,  the  Edacatio7ial 
Times,  the  Journal  of  Education,  the  Schoolmaster, 
Science  and  Art,  The  University  Correspondent, 
Nature,  The  Athenceum,  The  Academy,  and  The 
A  uthor. 

Smithers  remarked  the  appearance  of  a  note- 
book, the  jotting  down  of  memoranda.  He  edged 
into  the  bay  nearest  Lewisham's  table  and  ap- 
proached him  suddenly  from  the  flank.  "  What 
are  you  after?"  said  Smithers  in  a  noisy  whisper 
and  with  a  detective  eye  on  the  papers.  He  per- 
ceived Lewisham  was  scrutinising  the  advertisement 
column,  and  his  perplexity  increased. 

"  Oh — nothing,"  said  Lewisham  blandly,  with  his 
hand  falling  casually  over  his  memoranda  ;  "  what's 
your  particular  little  game?" 


220  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Nothing  much,"  said  Smithers,  "  just  mooching 
round.     You  weren't  at  the  meeting  last  Friday?" 

He  turned  a  chair,  knelt  on  it,  and  began  whisper- 
ing over  the  back  about  Debating  Society  politics. 
Lewisham  was  inattentive  and  brief.  What  had 
he  to  do  with  these  puerilities.  At  last  Smithers 
went  away  foiled,  and  met  Parkson  by  the  entrance. 
Parkson,  by-the-bye,  had  not  spoken  to  Lewisham 
since  their  painful  misunderstanding.  He  made  a 
wide  detour  to  his  seat  at  the  end  table,  and  so,  and 
by  a  singular  rectitude  of  bearing  and  a  dignified 
expression,  showed  himself  aware  of  Lewisham's 
offensive  presence. 

Lewisham's  investigations  were  two-fold.  He 
wanted  to  discover  some  way  of  adding  materially 
to  that  weekly  guinea  by  his  own  exertions,  and  he 
wanted  to  learn  the  conditions  of  the  market  for 
typewriting.  For  himself  he  had  a  vague  idea,  an 
idea  subsequently  abandoned,  that  it  was  possible 
to  get  teaching  work  in  evening  classes  during  the 
month  of  March.  But,  except  by  reason  of  sudden 
death,  no  evening  class  in  London  changes  its  staff 
after  September  until  July  comes  round  again. 
Private  tuition,  moreover,  offered  many  attractions 
to  him,  but  no  definite  proposals.  His  ideas  of  his 
own  possibilities  were  youthful,  or  he  would  not  have 
spent  time  in  noting  the  conditions  of  application 
for  a   vacant   professorship  in   physics  at  the  Mel- 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  221 

bourne  University.  He  also  made  a  note  of  the 
vacant  editorship  of  a  monthly  magazine  devoted 
to  social  questions.  He  would  not  have  minded 
doing  that  sort  of  thing  at  all,  though  the  proprietor 
might.  There  was  also  a  vacant  curatorship  in  the 
Museum  of  Eton  College. 

The  typewriting  business  was  less  varied  and 
more  definite.  Those  were  the  days  before  the 
violent  competition  of  the  half-educated  had  brought 
things  down  to  an  impossible  tenpence  the  thou- 
sand words,  and  the  prevailing  price  was  as  high  as 
one-and-six.  Calculating  that  Ethel  could  do  a 
thousand  words  in  an  hour  and  that  she  could  work 
five  or  six  hours  in  the  day,  it  was  evident  that  her 
contributions  to  the  household  expenses  would  be 
by  no  means  despicable  ;  thirty  shillings  a  week 
perhaps.  Lewisham  was  naturally  elated  at  this 
discovery.  He  could  find  no  advertisements  of 
authors  or  others  seeking  typewriting,  but  he  saw 
that  a  great  number  of  typewriters  advertised 
themselves  in  the  literary  papers.  It  was  evi- 
dent Ethel  also  must  advertise.  "  '  Scientific  phrase- 
ology a  speciality 'might  be  put,"  meditated  Lew- 
isham. He  returned  to  his  lodgings  in  a  hopeful 
mood  with  quite  a  bundle  of  memoranda  of  pos- 
sible employments.  He  spent  five  shillings  in  stamps 
on  the  way. 

After  lunch,  Lewisham — a   little  short  of  breath 


222         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

— asked  to  see  Madam  Gadow.  She  came  up  in 
the  most  affable  frame  of  mind  ;  nothing  could  be 
further  from  the  normal  indignation  of  the  British 
landlady.  She  was  very  voluble,  gesticulatory  and 
lucid,  but  unhappily  bi-lingual,  and  at  all  the  crucial 
points  German.  Mr.  Lewisham's  natural  polite- 
ness restrained  him  from  too  close  a  pursuit  across 
the  boundary  of  the  two  imperial  tongues.  Quite 
half  an  hour's  amicable  discussion  led  at  last  to  a 
reduction  of  sixpence,  and  all  parties  professed 
themselves  satisfied  with  this  result. 

Madam  Gadow  was  quite  cool  even  at  the  end. 
Mr.  Lewisham  was  flushed  in  the  face,  red-eared, 
and  his  hair  slightly  disordered,  but  that  sixpence 
was  at  any  rate  an  admission  of  the  justice  of  his 
claim.  "  She  was  evidently  trying  it  on,"  he  said 
almost  apologetically  to  Ethel.  "  It  was  absolutely 
necessary  to  present  a  firm  front  to  her.  I  doubt 
if  we  shall  have  any  trouble  again.  .  .  . 

"  Of  course  what  she  says  about  kitchen  coals  is 

■ 

perfectly  just." 

Then  the  young  couple  went  for  a  walk  in  Ken- 
sington Gardens,  and — the  spring  afternoon  was  so 
warm  and  pleasant — sat  on  two  attractive  green 
chairs  near  the  band-stand,  for  which  Lewisham 
had  subsequently  to  pay  twopence.  They  had  what 
Ethel  called  a  "  serious  talk."  She  was  really  won- 
derfully sensible  and  discussed  the    situation    ex- 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  223 

haustively.  She  was  particularly  insistent  upon 
the  importance  of  economy  in  her  domestic  dis- 
bursements and  deplored  her  general  ignorance  very 
earnestly.  It  was  decided  that  Lewisham  should 
get  a  good  elementary  text-book  of  domestic  economy 
for  her  private  study.  At  home  Mrs.  Chaffery 
guided  her  house  by  the  oracular  items  of  "  In- 
quire Within  upon  Everything,"  but  Lewisham 
considered  that  work  unscientific. 

Ethel  was  also  of  opinion  that  much  might  be 
learnt  from  the  sixpenny  ladies'  papers — the  penny 
ones  had  hardly  begun  in  those  days.  She  had 
bought  such  publications  during  seasons  of  affluence, 
but  chiefly,  as  she  now  deplored,  with  an  eye  to 
the  trimming  of  hats  and  such  like  vanities.  The 
sooner  the  typewriter  came  the  better.  It  occurred 
to  Lewisham  with  unpleasant  suddenness  that  he 
had  not  allowed  for  the  purchase  of  a  typewriter  in 
his  estimate  of  their  resources.  It  brought  their 
"  law  "  down  to  twelve  or  thirteen  weeks. 

They  spent  the  evening  in  writing  and  copying 
a  number  of  letters,  addressing  envelopes  and  en. 
closing  stamps.      There  were  optimistic  moments. 

"  Melbourne's  a  fine  city,"  said  Lewisham,  "  and 
we  should  have  a  glorious  voyage  out."  He  read 
the  application  for  the  Melbourne  professorship  out 
loud  to  her,  just  to  see  how  it  read,  and  she  was 
greatly   impressed    by  the    list  of   his  accomplish- 


224         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

ments  and  successes.  "  I  did  not  know  you  knew 
half  those  things,"  she  said,  and  became  depressed 
at  her  relative  illiteracy.  It  was  natural,  after  such 
encouragement,  to  write  to  the  scholastic  agents  in 
a  tone  of  assured  consequence. 

The  advertisement  for  typewriting  in  the  Athe- 
nceum  troubled  his  conscience  a  little.  After  he 
had  copied  out  his  draft  with  its  "  Scientific  phrase- 
ology a  speciality,"  fine  and  large,  he  saw  the 
notes  she  had  written  out  for  him.  Her  hand- 
writing was  still  round  and  boyish,  even  as  it  had 
appeared  in  the  Whortley  avenue,  but  her  punctu- 
ation was  confined  to  the  erratic  comma  and  the 
dash,  and  there  was  a  disposition  to  spell  the  im- 
perfectly legible  along  the  line  of  least  resistance. 
However  he  dismissed  that  matter  with  a  resolve 
to  read  over  and  correct  anything  in  that  way  that 
she  might  have  sent  her  to  do.  It  would  not  be  a 
bad  idea,  he  thought  parenthetically,  if  he  himself 
read  up  some  sound  authority  on  the  punctuation 
of  sentences. 

They  sat  at  this  business  quite  late,  heedless  of 
the  examination  in  botany  that  came  on  the  morrow. 
It  was  very  bright  and  cosy  in  their  little  room  with 
their  fire  burning,  the  gas  lit  and  the  curtains  drawn, 
and  the  number  of  applications  they  had  written 
made  them  hopeful.  She  was  flushed  and  enthu- 
siastic, now  flitting  about  the   room,  now  coming 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  225 

close  to  him  and  leaning  over  him  to  see  what  he 
had  done.  At  Lewisham's  request  she  got  him  the 
envelopes  from  the  chest  of  drawers.  "  You  are  a 
help  to  a  chap,"  said  Lewisham,  leaning  back  from 
the  table.  "  I  feel  I  could  do  anything  for  a  girl 
like  you — anything." 

"  Really  !  "  she  cried.  "  Really  !  Am  I  really  a 
help?" 

Lewisham's  face  and  gesture  were  all  assent.  She 
gave  a  little  cry  of  delight,  stood  for  a  moment, 
and  then  by  way  of  practical  demonstration  of  her 
unflinching  helpfulness,  hurried  round  the  table 
towards  him  with  arms  extended.  "  You  dear!" 
she  cried. 

Lewisham,  partially  embraced,  pushed  his  chair 
back  with  his  disengaged  arm,  so  that  she  might  sit 
on  his  knee.  .  .  . 

Who  could  doubt  that  she  was  a  help  ? 
*5 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE    FIRST  BATTLE 

LEWISHAM'S  inquiries  for  evening  teaching  and 
private  tuition  were  essentially  provisional  measures. 
His  proposals  for  a  more  permanent  establishment 
displayed  a  certain  defect  in  his  sense  of  proportion. 
That  Melbourne  professorship,  for  example,  was 
beyond  his  merits  and  there  were  aspects  of  things 
that  would  have  affected  the  welcome  of  himself  and 
his  wife  at  Eton  College.  At  the  outset  he  was 
inclined  to  regard  the  South  Kensington  scholar  as 
the  intellectual  salt  of  the  earth,  to  overrate  the 
abundance  of  "  decent  things"  yielding  from  one 
hundred  and  fifty  to  three  hundred  a  year,  and  to 
disregard  the  competition  of  such  inferior  enter- 
prises as  the  universities  of  Oxford,  Cambridge,  and 
the  literate  North.  But  the  scholastic  agents  to 
whom  he  went  on  the  following  Saturday  did  much 
in  a  quiet  way  to  disabuse  his  mind. 

Mr.   Blendershin's  chief   assistant    in    the    grimy 

little  office   in  Oxford  Street  cleared   up  the  matter 

so  vigorously  that  Lewisham  was  angered.     "  Head 
226 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  227 

Master  of  an  endowed  school,  perhaps  !  "  said  Mr. 
Blendershin's  chief  assistant.  "  Lord  ! — why  not 
a  bishopric  ?  I  say," —  as  Mr.  Blendershin  entered 
smoking  an  assertive  cigar — "  one  and  twenty,  no 
degree,  no  games,  two  years'  experience  as  junior — 
wants  a  headmastership  of  an  endowed  school !  " 
He  spoke  so  loudly  that  it  was  inevitable  the  selec- 
tion of  clients  in  the  waiting-room  should  hear,  and 
he  pointed  with  his  pen. 

"  Look  here  !  "  said  Lewisham  hotly  ;  "  if  I  knew 
the  ways  of  the  market  I  shouldn't  come  to  you." 

Mr.  Blendershin  stared  at  Lewisham  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  What's  he  done  in  the  way  of  certificates  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Blendershin  of  the  assistant. 

The  assistant  read  a  list  of  'ologies  and  'ographies. 
"  Fifty-resident,"  said  Mr.  Blendershin  concisely — 
"  that's  your  figure.     Sixty,  if  you're  lucky." 

"  What  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lewisham. 

"  Not  enough  for  you  ?  " 

"Not  nearly." 

"  You  can  get  a  Cambridge  graduate  for  eighty 
resident — and  grateful,"  said  Mr.  Blendershin. 

"  But  I  don't  want  a  resident  post,"  said  Lewis- 
ham. 

"  Precious  few  non-resident  shops,"  said  Mr. 
Blendershin.  "  Precious  few.  They  want  you  for 
dormitory  supervision — and  they'  re  afraid  of  your 
taking  pups  outside." 


228  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Not  married  by  any  chance  ?  "  said  the  assistant 
suddenly,  after  an  attentive  study  of  Lewisham's 
face. 

"  Well — er."  Levvisham  met  Mr.  Blendershin's 
eye.     "  Yes,"  he  said. 

The  assistant  was  briefly  unprintable.  "  Lord  ! 
you'll  have  to  keep  that  dark,"  said  Mr.  Blendershin. 
But  you  have  got  a  tough  bit  of  hoeing  before  you. 
If  I  was  you  I'd  go  on  and  get  my  degree  now  you're 
so  near  it.     You'll  stand  a  better  chance." 

Pause. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Lewisham  slowly  and  looking 
at  his  boot  toes,  "  I  must  be  doing  something  while 
I  am  getting  my  degree." 

The  assistant  whistled  softly. 

"  Might  get  you  a  visiting  job,  perhaps,"  said  Mr. 
Blendershin  speculatively.  "  Just  read  me  those 
items  again,  Binks."  He  listened  attentively.  "  Ob- 
jects to  religious  teaching  ! — Eh  ?  "  He  stopped 
the  reading  by  a  gesture.  "  That's  nonsense.  You 
can't  have  everything,  you  know.  Scratch  that  out. 
You  won't  get  a  place  in  any  middle-class  school  in 
England  if  you  object  to  religious  teaching.  It's 
the  mothers — bless  'em !  Say  nothing  about  it. 
Don't  believe — who  does?  There's  hundreds  like 
you,  you  know — hundreds.  Parsons — all  sorts. 
Say  nothing  about  it — " 

"But  if  I'm  asked?" 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  229 

"  Church  of  England.  Every  man  in  this  country 
who  has  not  dissented  belongs  to  the  Church  of 
England.  It'll  be  hard  enough  to  get  you  anything 
without  that." 

11  But—"  said  Mr.  Lewisham.     "  It's  lying." 

"  Legal  fiction,"  said  Mr.  Blendershin.  "  Every- 
one understands.  If  you  don't  do  that,  my  dear 
chap,  we  can't  do  anything  for  you.  It's  journalism, 
or  London  docks.  Well,  considering  your  experi- 
ence,— say  docks." 

Lewisham's  face  flushed  irregularly.  He  did  not 
answer.  He  scowled  and  tugged  at  the  still  by  no 
means  ample  moustache. 

"  Compromise,  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Blendershin, 
watching  him  kindly.     "  Compromise." 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Lewisham  faced  the 
necessity  of  telling  a  lie  in  cold  blood.  He  glissaded 
from  the  austere  altitudes  of  his  self-respect  and  his 
next  words  were  already  disingenuous. 

"  I  won't  promise  to  tell  lies  if  I'm  asked,"  he 
said  aloud.     "  I  can't  do  that." 

"  Scratch  it  out,"  said  Blendershin  to  the  clerk. 
"You  needn't  mention  it.  Then  you  don't  say  you 
can  teach  drawing." 

"  I  can't,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  You  just  give  out  the  copies,"  said  Blendershin, 
"  and  take  care  they  don't  see  you  draw,  you 
Know. 


230         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  But  that's  not  teaching  drawing — " 

"  It's  what's  understood  by  it  in  this  country," 
said  Blendershin.  "  Don't  you  go  corrupting  your 
mind  with  pedagogueries.  They're  the  ruin  of 
assistants.  Put  down  drawing.  Then  there's  short- 
hand— " 

"  Here,  I  say !  "  said  Lewisham. 

"  There's  shorthand,  French,  book-keeping,  com- 
mercial geography,  land  measuring — " 

"  But  I  can't  teach  any  of  those  things ! " 

"Look  here,"  said  Blendershin,  and  paused. 
"  Has  your  wife  or  you  a  private  income?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham. 

"Well?" 

A  pause  of  further  moral  descent,  and  a  whack 
against  an  obstacle.  "  But  they  will  find  me  out." 
said  Lewisham. 

Blendershin  smiled.  "  It's  not  so  much  ability  as 
willingness  to  teach,  you  know.  And  they  won't 
find  you  out.  The  sort  of  schoolmaster  we  deal 
with  can't  find  anything  out.  He  can't  teach  any 
of  these  things  himself — and  consequently  he  doesn't 
believe  they  can  be  taught.  Talk  to  him  of  pedago- 
gics and  he  talks  of  practical  experience.  But  he 
puts  'em  on  his  prospectus,  you  know,  and  he  wants 
'em  on  his  time-table.  Some  of  these  subjects — 
There's  commercial  geography,  for  instance.  What 
is  commercial  geography  ?  " 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  231 

"Barilla,"  said  the  assistant  biting  the  end  of  his 
pen,  and  added  pensively,  "  and  blethers." 

"  Fad,"  said  Blendershin.  "Just  fad.  News- 
papers talk  rot  about  commercial  education,  Duke 
of  Devonshire  catches  on  and  talks  ditto — pretends 
he  thought  it  himself — much  he  cares — parents  get 
hold  of  it — schoolmasters  obliged  to  put  something 
down,  consequently  assistants  must.  And  that's 
the  end  of  the  matter !  " 

"All  right,"  said  Lewisham  catching  his  breath 
in  a  faint  sob  of  shame.  "  Stick  'em  down.  But 
mind — a  non-resident  place." 

"Well,"  said  Blendershin,  "your  science  may 
pull  you  through.  But  I  tell  you  it's  hard.  Some 
grant-earning  grammar  school  may  want  that.  And 
that's  about  all,  I  think.  Make  a  note  of  the  ad- 
dress. ..." 

The  assistant  made  a  noise,  something  between  a 
whistle  and  the  word  "  Fee."  Blendershin  glanced 
at  Lewisham  and  nodded  doubtfully. 

"  Fee  for  booking,"  said  the  assistant ;  "  half  a 
crown.     Postage — in  advance — half  a  crown." 

But  Lewisham  remembered  certain  advice  Dun- 
kerley  had  given  him  in  the  old  Whortley  days. 
He  hesitated.  "  No,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  pay  that. 
If  you  get  me  anything  there's  the  commission — if 
you  don't — " 

"  We  lose,"  supplied  the  assistant. 


232  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  And  you  ought  to,"  said  Lewisham.  "  It's  a 
fair  game." 

"Living  in  London?"  asked  Blendershin. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  clerk. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Blendershin.  "  We 
won't  say  anything  about  the  postage  in  that  case. 
Of  course  it's  the  off  season,  and  you  mustn't  expect 
anything  at  present  very  much.  Sometimes  there's 
a  shift  or  so  at  Easter.  .  .  .  There's  nothing  more. 
.  .  .  Afternoon.     Anyone  else,  Binks?" 

Messrs.  Maskelyne,  Smith  and  Thrums  did  a 
higher  class  of  work  than  Blendershin,  whose  spe- 
cialties were  lower  class  private  establishments  and 
the  cheaper  sort  of  endowed  schools.  Indeed,  so 
superior  were  Maskelyne,  Smith  and  Thrums  that 
they  enraged  Lewisham  by  refusing  at  first  to  put 
him  on  their  books.  He  was  interviewed  briefly  by 
a  young  man  dressed  and  speaking  with  offensive 
precision,  whose  eye  adhered  rigidly  to  the  water- 
proof  collar  throughout  the   interview. 

"  Hardly  our  line,"  he  said,  and  pushed  Lewis- 
ham a  form  to  fill  up.  "  Mostly  upper  class  and 
good  preparatory  schools  here,  you  know." 

As  Lewisham  filled  up  the  form  with  his  multi- 
tudinous "  'ologies"  and  "  'ographies,"  a  youth  of 
ducal  appearance  entered  and  greeted  the  precise 
young  man  in  a  friendly  way.  Lewisham,  bending 
down  to  write,  perceived  that  this  professional  rival 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  233 

wore  a  very  long  frock  coat,  patent  leather  boots, 
and  the  most  beautiful  grey  trousers.  His  concep- 
tions of  competition  enlarged.  The  precise  young 
man  by  a  motion  of  his  eyes  directed  the  new- 
comer's attention  to  Lewisham's  waterproof  collar, 
and  was  answered  by  raised  eyebrows  and  a  faint 
tightening  of  the  mouth.  "  That  bounder  at  Castle- 
ford  has  answered  me,"  said  the  new-comer  in  a  fine 
rich  voice.     "  Is  he  any  bally  good  ?  " 

When  the  bounder  at  Castleford  had  been  dis- 
cussed Lewisham  presented  his  paper,  and  the  pre- 
cise young  man  with  his  eye  still  fixed  on  the 
waterproof  collar  took  the  document  in  the  manner 
of  one  who  reaches  across  a  gulf.  "  I  doubt  if  we 
shall  be  able  to  do  anything  for  you,"  he  said  re- 
assuringly. "  But  an  English  mastership  may 
chance  to  be  vacant.  Science  doesn't  count  for 
much  in  our  sort  of  schools,  you  know.  Classics 
and  good  games — that's  our  sort  of  thing." 

"  I  see,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  Good  games,  good  form,  you  know,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing." 

"  I  see,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  You  don't  happen  to  be  a  public-school  boy?" 
asked  the  precise  young  man. 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  Where  were  you  educated  ?  " 

Lewisham's  face  grew  hot.     "  Does  that  matter  ?  " 


234         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

he  asked  with  his  eye  on  the  exquisite  grey  trouser- 
ing. 

"  In  our  sort  of  school — decidedly.  It's  a  ques- 
tion of  tone,  you  know." 

"  I  see,"  said  Lewisham,  beginning  to  realise 
new  limitations.  His  immediate  impulse  was  to 
escape  the  eye  of  the  nicely  dressed  assistant  mas- 
ter. "  You'll  write,  I  suppose,  if  you  have  any- 
thing," he  said,  and  the  precise  young  man  re- 
sponded with  alacrity  to  his  doorward  motion. 

"  Often  get  that  kind  of  thing  ?  "  asked  the  nicely 
dressed  young  man  when  Lewisham  had  departed- 

"  Rather.  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  you  know. 
That  waterproof  collar — did  you  notice  it?  Ugh! 
And — '  I  see.'  And  the  scowl  and  the  clumsiness  of 
it.  Of  course  he  hasn't  any  decent  clothes — he'd 
go  to  a  new  shop  with  one  tin  box !  But  that  sort 
of  thing — and  board  school  teachers — they're  get- 
ting everywhere !  Only  the  other  day — Rowton 
was  here." 

"Not  Rowton  of  Pinner?" 

"Yes,  Rowton  of  Pinner.  And  he  asked  right 
out  for  a  board  schoolmaster.  He  said,  '  I  want 
someone  who  can  teach  arithmetic'  " 

He  laughed.  The  nicely  dressed  young  man 
meditated  over  the  handle  of  his  cane.  "A  boun- 
der of  that  kind  can't  have  a  particularly  nice  time," 
he  said,   "anyhow.     If  he  does  get  into  a  decent 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  235 

school,  he  must  get  tremendously  cut  by  all  the 
decent  men." 

"Too  thick-skinned  to  mind  that  sort  of  thing,  I 
fancy,"  said  the  scholastic  agent.  "  He's  a  new 
type.  This  South  Kensington  place  and  the  poly- 
technics are  turning  him  out  by  the  hundred.  .  .  . 

Lewisham  forgot  his  resentment  at  having  to 
profess  a  religion  he  did  not  believe,  in  this  new 
discovery  of  the  scholastic  importance  of  clothing. 
He  went  along  with  an  eye  to  all  the  shop  windows 
that  afforded  a  view  of  his  person.  Indisputably 
his  trousers  were  ungainly,  flapping  abominably 
over  his  boots  and  bagging  terribly  at  the  knees, 
and  his  boots  were  not  only  worn  and  ugly  but 
extremely  ill  blacked.  His  wrists  projected  offen- 
sively from  his  coat  sleeves,  he  perceived  a  huge 
asymmetry  in  the  collar  of  his  jacket,  his  red  tie 
was  askew  and  ill  tied,  and  that  waterproof  collar! 
It  was  shiny,  slightly  discoloured,  suddenly  clammy 
to  the  neck.  What  if  he  did  happen  to  be  well 
equipped  for  science  teaching?  That  was  nothing. 
He  speculated  on  the  cost  of  a  complete  outfit.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  get  such  grey  trousers  as  those 
he  had  seen  for  less  than  sixteen  shillings,  and  he 
reckoned  a  frock  coat  at  forty  shillings  at  least — 
possibly  even  more.  He  knew  good  clothes  were 
very  expensive.  He  hesitated  at  Poole's  door  and 
turned  away.     The  thing  was  out  of  the  question. 


236  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

He  crossed  Leicester  Square  and  went  down  Bed- 
ford Street  disliking  every  well-dressed  person  he 
met. 

Messrs.  Danks  &  Wimborne  inhabited  a  bank-like 
establishment  near  Chancery  Lane,  and  without  any 
conversation  presented  him  with  forms  to  fill  up. 
Religion  ?  asked  the  form.  Lewisham  paused  and 
wrote  "Church  of  England." 

Thence  he  went  to  the  College  of  Pedagogues  in 
Holborn.  The  College  of  Pedagogues  presented 
itself  as  a  long-bearded,  corpulent,  comfortable  per- 
son with  a  thin  gold  watch  chain  and  fat  hands. 
He  wore  gilt  glasses  and  had  a  kindly  confidential 
manner  that  did  much  to  heal  Lewisham's  wounded 
feelings.  The  'ologies  and  'ographies  were  taken 
down  with  polite  surprise  at  their  number.  "You 
ought  to  take  one  of  our  diplomas,"  said  the  stout 
man.  "You  would  find  no  difficulty.  No  compe- 
tition. And  there  are  prizes — several  prizes — in 
money." 

Lewisham  was  not  aware  that  the  waterproof 
collar  had  found  a  sympathetic  observer. 

"  We  give  courses  of  lectures,  and  have  an  ex- 
amination in  the  theory  and  practice  of  education. 
It  is  the  only  examination  in  the  theory  and  practice 
of  education  for  men  engaged  in  middle  and  upper 
class  teaching  in  this  country.  Except  the  Teacher's 
Diploma.     And  so  few  come — not  two  hundred  a 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  237 

year.  Mostly  governesses.  The  men  prefer  to 
teach  by  rule  of  thumb,  you  know.  English  charac- 
teristic— rule  of  thumb.  It  doesn't  do  to  say  any- 
thing of  course — but  there's  bound  to  be — some- 
thing happen — something  a  little  disagreeable — 
somewhen,  if  things  go  on  as  they  do.  American 
schools  keep  on  getting  better — German  too.  What 
used  to  do  won't  do  now.  I  tell  this  to  you,  you 
know,  but  it  doesn't  do  to  tell  everyone.  It  doesn't 
do.  It  doesn't  do  to  do  anything.  So  much  has  to 
be  considered.  However  .  .  .  But  you'd  do  well 
to  get  a  diploma  and  make  yourself  efficient. 
Though  that's  looking  ahead." 

He  spoke  of  looking  ahead  with  an  apologetic 
laugh  as  though  it  was  an  amiable  weakness  of  his. 
He  turned  from  such  abstruse  matters  and  furnished 
Lewisham  with  the  particulars  of  the  college  diplo- 
mas, and  proceeded  to  other  possibilities.  "  There's 
private  tuition,"  he  said.  "  Would  you  mind  a 
backward  boy?  Then  we  are  occasionally  asked 
for  visiting  masters.  Mostly  by  girls'  schools. 
But  that's  for  older  men — married  men,  you  know." 

"  I  am  married,"  said  Lewisham. 

"Eh?  "  said  the  College  of  Pedagogues,  startled. 

"  I  am  married,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  Dear    me,"    said    the    College    of    Pedagogues 
gravely,   and   regarding    Mr.   Lewisham   over  gold 
rimmed  glasses.     "  Dear  me  !     And  I  am  more  than 


238        LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

twice  your  age,  and  I  am  not  married  at  all.  One 
and  twenty !  Have  you — have  you  been  married 
long  ?  " 

"  A  few  weeks,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  That's  very  remarkable,"  said  the  College  of 
Pedagogues.  "  Very  interesting.  .  .  .  Really  / 
Your  wife  must  be  a  very  courageous  young  person. 
.  .  .  Excuse  me  !  You  know — .  You  will  really 
have  a  hard  fight  for  a  position.  However — it  cer- 
tainly makes  you  eligible  for  girls'  schools  ;  it  does 
do  that.     To  a  certain  extent,  that  is." 

The  evidently  enhanced  respect  of  the  College 
of  Pedagogues  pleased  Lewisham  extremely.  But 
his  encounter  with  the  Medical,  Scholastic  and 
Clerical  Agency  that  holds  by  Waterloo  Bridge  was 
depressing  again,  and  after  that  he  set  out  to  walk 
home.  Long  before  he  reached  home  he  was  tired, 
and  his  simple  pride  in  being  married  and  in  active 
grapple  with  an  unsympathetic  world  had  passed. 
His  surrender  on  the  religious  question  had  left  a 
rankling  bitterness  behind  it;  the  problem  of  the 
clothes  was  acutely  painful.  He  was  still  far  from 
a  firm  grasp  of  the  fact  that  his  market  price  was 
under  rather  than  over  one  hundred  pounds  a  year, 
but  that  persuasion  was  gaining  ground  in  his  mind. 

The  day  was  a  greyish  one,  with  a  dull  cold  wind, 
and  a  nail  in  one  of  his  boots  took  upon  itself  to 
be  objectionable.     Certain  wild  shots  and  disastrous 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  239 

lapses  in  his  recent  botanical  examination,  that  he 
had  managed  to  keep  out  of  his  mind  hitherto, 
forced  their  way  on  his  attention.  For  the  first 
time  since  his  marriage  he  harboured  premonitions 
of  failure. 

When  he  got  in  he  wanted  to  sit  down  at  once 
in  the  little  creaky  chair  by  the  fire,  but  Ethel 
came  flitting  from  the  newly  bought  typewriter 
with  arms  extended  and  prevented  him.  "  Oh ! — 
it  has  been  dull,"  she  said. 

He  missed  the  compliment.  "  /haven't  had  such 
a  giddy  time  that  you  should  grumble,"  he  said,  in 
a  tone  that  was  novel  to  her.  He  disengaged  him- 
self from  her  arms  and  sat  down.  He  noticed  the 
expression  of  her  face. 

"  I'm  rather  tired,"  he  said  by  way  of  apology. 
"  And  there's  a  confounded  nail  I  must  hammer  down 
in  my  boot.  It's  tiring  work  hunting  up  these 
agents,  but  of  course  it's  better  to  go  and  see  them. 
How  have  you  been  getting  on  ?  " 

"  All  right,"  she  said  regarding  him.  And  then, 
"  You  are  tired.  We'll  have  some  tea.  And — let 
me  take  off  your  boot  for  you,  dear.     Yes — I  will." 

She  rang  the  bell,  bustled  out  of  the  room,  called 
for  tea  at  the  staircase,  came  back,  pulled  out 
Madam  Gadow's  ungainly  hassock  and  began  unlac- 
ing his  boot.  Lewisham's  mood  changed.  "  You 
are  a  trump,  Ethel,"  he  said  ;  "  I'm  hanged  if  you're 


240         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

not."  As  the  laces  flicked  he  bent  forward  and  kissed 
her  ear.  The  unlacing  was  suspended  and  there 
were  reciprocal  endearments.  .  .  . 

Presently  he  was  sitting  in  his  slippers,  with  a 
cup  of  tea  in  his  hand,  and  Ethel,  kneeling  on  the 
hearthrug  with  the  firelight  on  her  face,  was  telling 
him  of  an  answer  that  had  come  that  afternoon  to 
her  advertisement  in  the  Athenceum. 

"  That's  good,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  It's  a  novelist,"  she  said  with  the  light  of  pride 
in  her  eyes,  and  handed  him  the  letter.  "  Lucas 
Holderness,  the  author  of  '  The  Furnace  of  Sin ' 
and  other  stories." 

"  That's  first  rate,"  said  Lewisham  with  just  a 
touch  of  envy,  and  bent  forward  to  read  by  the 
firelight. 

The  letter  was  from  an  address  in  Judd  Street, 
Euston  Road,  written  on  good  paper  and  in  a  fair 
round  hand  such  as  one  might  imagine  a  novelist 
using.  "  Dear  Madam,  "  said  the  letter  ;  "  I  propose 
to  send  you,  by  registered  letter,  the  MS.  of  a  three- 
volume  novel.  It  is  about  90,000  words — but  you 
must  count  the  exact  number." 

"  How  I  shall  count  I  don't  know,"  said  Ethel. 

"  I'll  show  you  a  way,"  said  Lewisham.  "  There's 
no  difficulty  in  that.  You  count  the  words  on  three 
or  four  pages,  strike  an  average,  and  multiply." 

"  But  of  course,  before  doing  so  I  must  have  a  satis- 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  241 

factory  guarantee  that  my  confidence  in  putting  my 
work  in  your  hands  will  not  be  misplaced  and  that 
your  execution  is  of  the  necessary  high  quality." 
"  Oh  !  "  said  Levvisham  ;  "  that's  a  bother." 
"Accordingly  I  must  ask  you  for  references." 
"That's  a  downright   nuisance,"  said  Lewisham. 
"  I  suppose  that  ass,  Lagune  .  .  .  But  what's  this  ? 
i  Or,   failing   references,  for   a  deposit  .  .  .'  That's 
reasonable,  I  suppose." 

It  was  such  a  moderate  deposit  too — merely  a 
guinea.  Even  had  the  doubt  been  stronger,  the 
aspect  of  helpful  hopeful  little  Ethel  eager  for  work 
might  well  have  thrust  it  aside.  "Sending  him  a 
cheque  will  show  him  we  have  a  banking  account 
behind  us,"  said  Lewisham, — his  banking  was  still 
sufficiently  recent  for  pride.  "  We  will  send  him  a 
cheque.     That'll  settle  him  all  right." 

That  evening  after  the  guinea  cheque  had  been 
despatched,  things  were  further  brightened  by  the 
arrival  of  a  letter  of  atrociously  jellygraphed  advices 
from  Messrs.  Danks  &  Wimborne.  They  all  re- 
ferred to  resident  vacancies  for  which  Lewisham 
was  manifestly  unsuitable,  nevertheless  their  arrival 
brought  an  encouraging  assurance  of  things  going 
on,  of  shifting  and  unstable  places  in  the  defences 
of  the  beleaguered  world.  Afterwards,  with  occa- 
sional endearments  for  Ethel,  he  set  himself  to  a 
revision  of  his   last  year's   note-books,  for  now  the 


242  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

botany  was  finished,  the  advanced  zoological  course 
— the  last  lap,  as  it  were,  for  the  Forbes  medal — was 
beginning.  She  got  her  best  hat  from  the  next 
room  to  make  certain  changes  in  the  arrangement 
of  its  trimmings.  She  sat  in  the  little  chair,  while 
Lewisham,  with  documents  spread  before  him,  sat 
at  the  table. 

Presently  she  looked  up  from  an  experimental 
arrangement  of  her  cornflowers,  and  discovered 
Lewisham,  no  longer  reading,  but  staring  blankly  at 
the  middle  of  the  table-cloth,  with  an  extraordinary 
misery  in  his  eyes.  She  forgot  the  cornflowers  and 
stared  at  him. 

"  Penny,"  she  said  after  an  interval. 

Lewisham  started  and  looked  up.     "  Eh  ?  " 

"  Why  were  you  looking  so  miserable  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Was  I  looking  miserable  ?  " 

"  Yes.     And  cross  !  " 

"  I  was  thinking  just  then  that  I  would  like  to 
boil  a  bishop  or  so  in  oil." 

"  My  dear  !  " 

"  They  know  perfectly  well  the  case  against  what 
they  teach,  they  know  it's  neither  madness  nor 
wickedness  nor  any  great  harm  to  others,  not  to  be- 
lieve, they  know  perfectly  well  that  a  man  may  be 
as  honest  as  the  day,  and  right — right  and  decent 
in  every  way — and  not  believe  in  what  they  teach. 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  243 

And  they  know  that  it  only  wants  the  edge  off  a 
man's  honour,  for  him  to  profess  anything  in  the 
way  of  belief.  Just  anything.  And  they  won't 
say  so.  I  suppose  they  want  the  edge  off  every 
man's  honour.  If  a  man  is  well  off  they  will 
truckle  to  him  no  end,  though  he  laughs  at  all 
their  teaching.  They'll  take  gold  plate  from  com- 
pany promoters  and  rent  from  insanitary  houses. 
But  if  a  man  is  poor  and  doesn't  profess  to  believe 
in  what  some  of  them  scarcely  believe  themselves, 
they  wouldn't  lift  a  finger  to  help  him  against  the 
ignorance  of  their  followers.  Your  stepfather  was 
right  enough  there.  They  know  what's  going  on. 
They  know  that  it  means  lying  and  humbug  for 
any  number  of  people,  and  they  don't  care.  Why 
should  they  ?  They've  got  it  down  all  right. 
They're  spoilt  and  why  shouldn't  we  be  ?  " 

Lewisham  having  selected  the  bishops  as  scape- 
goats for  his  turpitude,  was  inclined  to  ascribe  even 
the  nail  in  his  boot  to  their  agency. 

Mrs.  Lewisham  looked  puzzled.  She  realised 
his  drift. 

"  You're  not,"  she  said,  and  dropped  her  voice, 
"  an  infidel  ?  " 

Lewisham  nodded  gloomily.  "  Aren't  you  ?  "  he 
said. 

"  Oh   no,"  said  Mrs.  Lewisham. 

"  But  you  don't  go  to  church,  you  don't — " 


244         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Lewisham  ;  and  then 
with  more  assurance.     "  But  I'm  not  an  infidel." 

"  Christian  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  But  a  Christian —     What  do  you  believe?  " 

"  Oh !  to  tell  the  truth,  and  do  right,  and  not 
hurt  or  injure  people  and  all  that." 

"  That's  not  a  Christian.  A  Christian  is  one  who 
believes." 

"  It's  what  /  mean  by  a  Christian,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewisham. 

"  Oh  !  at  that  rate  anyone's  a  Christian,"  said 
Lewisham.  "  We  all  think  it's  right  to  do  right 
and  wrong  to  do  wrong." 

"  But  we  don't  all  do  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lewisham, 
taking  up  the  cornflowers  again. 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham,  a  little  taken  aback  by 
the  feminine  method  of  discussion.  "We  don't  all 
do  it — certainly."  He  stared  at  her  for  a  moment 
— her  head  was  a  little  on  one  side  and  her  eyes  on 
the  cornflower — and  his  mind  was  full  of  a  strange 
discovery.  He  seemed  on  the  verge  of  speaking, 
and  turned  to  his  note-book  again. 

Very  soon  the  centre  of  the  table-cloth  resumed 
its  sway. 

The  following  day  Mr.  Lucas  Holderness  re- 
ceived his  cheque  for  a  guinea.     Unhappily  it  was 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  245 

crossed.  He  meditated  for  some  time  and  then 
took  pen  and  ink  and  improved  Lewisham's  careless 
"  one  "  to  "  five  "  and  touched  up  his  unticked 
figure  one  to  correspond. 

You  perceive  him,  a  lank,  cadaverous,  good-look- 
ing man  with  long  black  hair  and  a  semi-clerical 
costume  of  quite  painful  rustiness.  He  made  the 
emendations  with  grave  carefulness.  He  took  the 
cheque  round  to  his  grocer.  His  grocer  looked  at 
it  suspiciously. 

"  You  pay  it  in,"  said  Mr.  Lucas  Holderness,  "  if 
you've  any  doubts  about  it.  Pay  it  in.  /don't 
know  the  man  or  what  he  is.  He  may  be  a  swindler 
for  all  I  can  tell.  /  can't  answer  for  him.  Pay 
it  in  and  see.  Leave  the  change  till  then.  I  can 
wait.     I'll  call  round  in  a  few  days'  time." 

"All  right,  wasn't  it?"  said  Mr.  Lucas  Holder- 
ness in  a  casual  tone  two  days  later. 

"  Quite,  sir,"  said  his  grocer  with  enhanced  re- 
spect, and  handed  him  his  four  pounds  thirteen  and 
sixpence  change. 

Mr.  Lucas  Holderness,  who  had  been  eyeing  the 
grocer's  stock  with  a  curious  intensity,  immediately 
became  animated  and  bought  a  tin  of  salmon.  He 
went  out  of  the  shop  with  the  rest  of  the  money  in 
his  hand,  for  the  pockets  of  his  clothes  were  old 
and  untrustworthy.  At  the  baker's  he  bought  a 
new  roll. 


246         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

He  bit  a  huge  piece  of  the  roll  directly  he  was 
out  of  the  shop,  and  went  on  his  way  gnawing.  It 
was  so  large  a  piece  that  his  gnawing  mouth  was 
contorted  into  the  ugliest  shapes.  He  swallowed 
by  an  effort,  stretching  his  neck  each  time.  His 
eyes  expressed  an  animal  satisfaction.  He  turned 
the  corner  of  Judd  Street  biting  again  at  the  roll, 
and  the  reader  of  this  story,  like  the  Lewishams, 
hears  of  him  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   GLAMOUR  FADES 

AFTER  all,  the  rosy  love-making  and  marrying  and 
Epithalamy  are  no  more  than  the  dawn  of  things, 
and  to  follow  comes  all  the  spacious  interval  of  white 
laborious  light.  Try  as  we  may  to  stay  those  de- 
lightful moments,  they  fade  and  pass  remorselessly  ; 
there  is  no  returning,  no  recovering,  only — for  the 
foolish — the  vilest  peep-shows  and  imitations  in  dens 
and  darkened  rooms.  We  go  on — we  grow.  At 
least  we  age.  Our  young  couple,  emerging  presently 
from  an  atmosphere  of  dusk  and  morning  stars, 
found  the  sky  gathering  greyly  overhead  and  saw 
one  another  for  the  first  time  clearly  in  the  light  of 
every-day. 

It  might  perhaps  witness  better  to  Lewisham's  re- 
finement if  one  could  tell  only  of  a  moderated  and 
dignified  cooling,  of  pathetic  little  concealments  of 
disappointment  and  a  decent  maintenance  of  the 
sentimental  atmosphere.  And  so  at  last  daylight. 
But  our  young  couple  were  too  crude  for  that.  The 
first   intimations  of  their  lack   of  identity  have    al 

ready  been  described,  but  it  would  be  tedious  and 

247 


248  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

pitiful  to  tell  of  all  the  little  intensifications,  shade 
by  shade,  of  the  conflict  of  their  individualities. 
They  fell  out,  dear  lady  !  they  came  to  conflict  of 
words.  The  stress  of  perpetual  worry  was  upon 
them,  of  dwindling  funds  and  the  anxious  search  for 
work  that  would  not  come.  And  on  Ethel  lay  long, 
vacant,  lonely  hours  in  dull  surroundings.  Differ- 
ences arose  from  the  most  indifferent  things  ;  one 
night  Lewisham  lay  awake  in  unfathomable  amaze- 
ment because  she  had  convinced  him  she  did  not 
care  a  rap  for  the  Welfare  of  Humanity,  and  deemed 
his  Socialism  a  fancy  and  an  indiscretion.  And  one 
Sunday  afternoon  they  started  for  a  walk  under  the 
pleasantest  auspices,  and  returned  flushed  and  angry, 
satire  and  retort  flying  free — on  the  score  of  the  so- 
cial conventions  in  Ethel's  novelettes.  For  some 
inexplicable  reason  Lewisham  saw  fit  to  hate  her 
novelettes  very  bitterly.  These  encounters  indeed 
were  mere  skirmishes  for  the  most  part,  and  the 
silences  and  embarrassments  that  followed  ended 
sooner  or  later  in  a  "  making  up,"  tacit  or  definite, 
though  once  or  twice  this  making  up  only  re-opened 
the  healing  wound.  And  always  each  skirmish  left 
its  scar,  effaced  from  yet  another  line  of  their  lives 
the  lingering  tints  of  romantic  colour. 

There  came  no  work,  no  added  income  for  either 
of  them,  saving  two  trifles,  for  five  long  months. 
Once  Lewisham  won  twelve  shillings  in  the  prize 


THE  GLAMOUR  FADES  249 

competition   of    a  penny  weekly,   and   three    times 
came  infinitesimal   portions  of  typewriting   from  a 
poet  who  had  apparently  seen  the  Athenceum  adver- 
tisement.    His  name  was  Edwin   Peak   Baynes  and 
his  handwriting  was  sprawling  and  unformed.     He 
sent  her  several  short  lyrics  on  scraps  of  paper  with 
instructions  that  he  desired  "  three   copies  of  each 
written    beautifully    in  different    styles"    and    "not 
fastened  with  metal  fasteners  but  with  silk  thread  of 
an  appropriate  colour."     Both  of  our  young  people 
were  greatly  exercised  by  these  instructions.     One 
fragment   was   called    "Bird    Song,"    one    "Cloud 
Shadows,"    and  one   "  Eryngium,"    but  Lewisham 
thought    they  might  be    spoken  of   collectively   as 
Bosh.     By  way   of  payment,  this  poet  sent,  in  con- 
travention of   the  postal  regulations,  half  a  sover- 
eign stuck  into  a  card,  asking  her  to  keep  the  bal- 
ance against    future    occasions.     In    a   little   while, 
greatly  altered  copies  of  these  lyrics  were  returned 
by  the  poet  in  person,  with  this  enigmatical  instruc- 
tion written  across  the  cover  of  each  :  "  This  style  I 
like,  only  if  possible  more  so." 

Lewisham  was  out,  but  Ethel  opened  the  door,  so 
this  indorsement  was  unnecessary.  "  He's  really 
only  a  boy,"  said  Ethel,  describing  the  interview  to 
Lewisham,  who  was  curious.  They  both  felt  that 
the  youthfulness  of  Edwin  Peak  Baynes  detracted 
something  from  the  reality  of  this  employment. 


250  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

From  his  marriage  until  the  final  examination  in 
June,  Lewisham's  life  had  an  odd  amphibious  quality. 
At  home  were  Ethel  and  the  perpetual  aching  pur- 
suit of  employment,  the  pelting  irritations  of  Ma- 
dame Gadow's  persistent  overcharges,  and  so  forth, 
and  amid  such  things  he  felt  extraordinarily  grown 
up ;  but  intercalated  with  these  experiences  were 
those  intervals  at  Kensington,  scraps  of  his  adoles- 
cence, as  it  were,  lying  amidst  the  new  matter  of 
his  manhood,  intervals  during  which  he  was  simply 
an  insubordinate  and  disappointing  student  with  an 
increasing  disposition  to  gossip.  At  South  Kensing- 
ton he  dwelt  with  theories  and  ideals  as  a  student 
should  ;  at  the  little  rooms  in  Chelsea— they  grew 
very  stuffy  as  the  summer  came  on,  and  the  accumu- 
lation of  the  penny  novelettes  Ethel  favoured  made 
a  litter — there  was  his  particular  private  concrete 
situation,  and  ideals  gave  place  to  the  real. 

It  was  a  strangely  narrow  world,  he  perceived 
dimly,  in  which  his  manhood  opened.  The  only 
visitors  were  the  ChafTerys.  Chaffery  would  come 
to  share  their  supper,  and  won  upon  Lewisham  in 
spite  of  his  roguery  by  his  incessantly  entertaining 
monologue  and  by  his  expressed  respect  for  and 
envy  of  Lewisham's  scientific  attainments.  More- 
over, as  time  went  on  Lewisham  found  himself  more 
and  more  in  sympathy  with  Chaffery 's  bitterness 
against  those  who  order  the  world.     It  was  good  to 


THE  GLAMOUR  FADES  251 

hear  him  on  bishops  and  that  sort  of  people.  He 
said  what  Lewisham  wanted  to  say  beautifully.  Mrs. 
Chaffery  was  perpetually  flitting — out  of  the  house 
as  Lewisham  came  home,  a  dim,  black,  nervous,  un- 
tidy little  figure.  She  came  because  Ethel,  in  spite 
of  her  expressed  belief  that  love  was  "  all  in  all," 
found  married  life  a  little  dull  and  lonely  while  Lew- 
isham was  away.  And  she  went  hastily  when  he 
came,  because  of  a  certain  irritability  that  the 
struggle  against  the  world  was  developing.  He  told 
no  one  at  Kensington  about  his  marriage,  at  first 
because  it  was  such  a  delicious  secret  and  then  for 
quite  other  reasons.  So  there  was  no  overlapping. 
The  two  worlds  began  and  ended  sharply  at  the 
wrought-iron  gates.  But  the  day  came  when  Lew- 
isham passed  those  gates  for  the  last  time  and  his 
adolescence  ended  altogether. 

In  the  final  examination  of  the  biological  course, 
the  examination  that  signalised  the  end  of  his  in- 
come of  a  weekly  guinea,  he  knew  well  enough  that 
he  had  done  badly.  The  evening  of  the  last  day's 
practical  work  found  him  belated,  hot-headed,  beaten, 
with  ruffled  hair  and  red  ears.  He  sat  to  the  last 
moment  doggedly  struggling  to  keep  cool  and  to 
mount  the  ciliated  funnel  of  an  earthworm's  ne- 
phridium.  But  ciliated  funnels  come  not  to  those 
who  have  shirked  the  laboratory  practice.  He  rose, 
surrendered  his  paper  to  the  morose  elderly  young 


252         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

assistant  demonstrator  who  had  welcomed  him  so 
flatteringly  eight  months  before,  and  walked  down 
the  laboratory  to  the  door  where  the  rest  of  his 
fellow-students  clustered. 

Smithers  was  talking  loudly  about  the  "  twisti- 
ness  M  of  the  identification,  and  the  youngster  with 
the  big  ears  was  listening  attentively. 

"  Here's  Lewisham  !  How  did  you  get  on,  Lewis- 
ham?  "  asked  Smithers,  not  concealing  his  assurance. 

"  Horribly,"  said  Lewisham  shortly,  and  pushed 
past. 

"  Did  you  spot  D  ?  "  clamoured  Smithers. 

Lewisham  pretended  not  to  hear. 

Miss  Heydinger  stood  with  her  hat  in  her  hand 
and  looked  at  Lewisham's  hot  eyes.  He  was  for 
walking  past  her,  but  something  in  her  face  pene- 
trated even  his  disturbance.     He  stopped. 

"Did  you  get  out  the  nephridium?"  he  said  as 
graciously  as  he  could. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Are  you  going  down- 
stairs?" she  asked. 

"  Rather,"  said  Lewisham  with  a  vague  intimation 
in  his  manner  of  the  offence  Smithers  gave  him. 

He  opened  the  glass  door  from  the  passage  to  the 
staircase.  They  went  down  one  tier  of  that  square 
spiral  in  silence. 

"  Are  you  coming  up  again  next  year,"  asked  Miss 
Heydinger. 


THE  GLAMOUR  FADES  253 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham.  "  No,  I  shall  not  come 
here  again.     Ever." 

Pause.     "  What  will  you  do  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  have  to  get  a  living  somehow. 
It's  been  bothering  me  all  the  session." 

"  I  thought — "  She  stopped.  "  Will  you  go 
down  to  your  uncle's  again?  "  she  said. 

"  No.  I  shall  stop  in  London.  It's  no  good 
going  out  of  things  into  the  country.  And  besides 
— I've  quarrelled  rather  with  my  uncle." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  doing  ? — teaching  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be  teaching.  I'm  not  sure. 
Anything  that  turns  up." 

"  I  see,"  she  said. 

They  went  on  down  in  silence  for  a  time. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  come  up  again  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  may  try  the  botanical  again — if  they  can  find 
room.  And,  I  was  thinking — sometimes  one  hears 
of  things.  What  is  your  address?  So  that  if  I  heard 
of  anything." 

Lewisham  stopped  on  the  staircase  and  thought. 
"  Of  course,"  he  said.  He  made  no  effort  to  give 
her  the  address,  and  she  demanded  it  again  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  That  confounded  nephridium —  !  "  he  said.  "  It 
has  put  everything  out  of  my  head." 

They  exchanged  addresses  on  leaflets  torn  from 
Miss  Heydinger's  little  note-book. 


254         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

She  waited  at  the  Book  in  the  hall  while  he  signed 
his  name.  At  the  iron  gates  of  the  Schools  she  said  : 
"  I  am  going  through  Kensington  Gardens." 

He  was  now  feeling  irritated  about  the  addresses, 
and  he  would  not  see  the  implicit  invitation.  "  I  am 
going  towards  Chelsea." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  looking  at  him — puzzled. 
"  Good-bye  then,"  she  said. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  answered,  lifting  his  hat. 

He  crossed  the  Exhibition  Road  slowly  with  his 
packed  glazed  bag,  now  seamed  with  cracks,  in  his 
hand.  He  went  thoughtfully  down  to  the  corner  of 
the  Cromwell  Road  and  turned  along  that  to  the 
right  so  that  he  could  see  the  red  pile  of  the  Science 
Schools  rising  fair  and  tall  across  the  gardens  of  the 
Natural  History  Museum.  He  looked  back  towards 
it  regretfully. 

He  was  quite  sure  that  he  had  failed  in  this  last 
examination.  He  knew  that  any  career  as  a  scientific 
man  was  now  closed  to  him  for  ever.  And  he  re- 
membered now  how  he  had  come  along  this  very 
road  to  that  great  building  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  and  all  the  hopes  and  resolves  that  had  swelled 
within  him  as  he  had  drawn  near.  That  dream  of 
incessant  unswerving  work  !  Where  might  he  have 
reached  if  only  he  had  had  singleness  of  purpose  to 
realise  that  purpose  ?  .  .  . 

And  in  these  gardens  it  was  that  he  and  Smithers 


THE  GLAMOUR  FADES  25s 

and  Parkson  had  sat  on  a  seat  hard  by  the  fossil 
tree  and  discoursed  of  Socialism  together  before  the 
great  paper  was  read.  .  .  . 

"Yes,"  he  said,  speaking  aloud  to  himself  ;  "  yes 
— that's  all  over  too.     Everything's  over." 

Presently  the  corner  of  the  Natural  History 
Museum  came  between  him  and  his  receding  Alma 
Mater.  He  sighed  and  turned  his  face  towards  the 
stuffy  little  rooms  at  Chelsea,  and  the  still  uncorv 
quered  world, 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

CONCERNING  A   QUARREL 

It  was  late  in  September  that  this  particular 
quarrel  occurred.  Almost  all  the  roseate  tints 
seemed  gone  by  this  time,  for  the  Lewishams  had 
been  married  six  months.  Their  financial  affairs 
had  changed  from  the  catastrophic  to  the  sordid  ; 
Lewisham  had  found  work.  An  army  crammer 
named  Captain  Vigours  wanted  someone  energetic 
for  his  mathematical  duffers  and  to  teach  geometrical 
drawing  and  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  "  Sand- 
hurst Science."  He  paid  no  less  than  two  shillings 
an  hour  for  his  uncertain  demands  on  Lewisham's 
time.  Moreover,  there  was  a  class  in  lower  mathe- 
matics beginning  at  Walham  Green  where  Lewisham 
was  to  show  his  quality.  Fifty  shillings  a  week  or 
more  seemed  credible — more  might  be  hoped  for. 
It  was  now  merely  a  case  of  tiding  over  the  inter- 
val until  Vigours  paid.  And  meanwhile  the  fresh- 
ness of  Ethel's  blouses  departed,  and  Lewisham  re- 
frained from  the  repair  of  his  boot  which  had  cracked 

across  the  toe. 
256 


CONCERNING  A  QUARREL  257 

The  beginning  of  the  quarrel  was  trivial  enough. 
But  by  the  end  they  got  to  generalities.  Lewisham 
had  begun  the  day  in  a  bad  temper  and  under  the 
cloud  of  an  overnight  passage  of  arms — and  a  little 
incident  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  ostensible 
difference  lent  it  a  warmth  of  emotion  quite  beyond 
its  merits.  As  he  emerged  through  the  folding  doors 
he  saw  a  letter  lying  among  the  sketchily  laid  break- 
fast things,  and  Ethel's  attitude  suggested  the  recoil 
of  a  quick  movement ;  the  letter  suddenly  dropped. 
Her  eyes  met  his  and  she  flushed.  He  sat  down  and 
took  the  letter — a  trifle  awkwardly  perhaps.  It 
was  from  Miss  Heydinger.  He  hesitated  with  it 
half-way  to  his  pocket,  then  decided  to  open  it.  It 
displayed  an  ample  amount  of  reading,  and  he  read. 
On  the  whole  he  thought  it  rather  a  dull  sort  of 
letter,  but  he  did  not  allow  this  to  appear.  When 
it  was  read  he  put  it  carefully  in  his  pocket. 

That  formally  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  quar- 
rel. The  breakfast  was  already  over  when  the  quar- 
rel began.  Lewisham's  morning  was  vacant,  and 
he  proposed  to  occupy  it  in  the  revision  of  certain 
notes  bearing  upon  "  Sandhurst  Science."  Unhap- 
pily the  search  for  his  note-book  brought  him  into 
collision  with  the  accumulation  of  Ethel's  novelettes. 

"  These  things  are  everywhere,"  he  said   after  a 

gust  of  vehement    handling.     "  I    wish  you'd  tidy 

them  up  sometimes." 
l7 


258  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"They  were  tidy  enough  till  you  began  to  throw 
them  about,"  Ethel  pointed  out. 

"Confounded  muck!  it's  only  fit  to  be  burnt," 
Lewisham  remarked  to  the  universe,  and  pitched 
one  viciously  into  the  corner. 

"Well,  you  tried  to  write  one,  anyhow,"  said 
Ethel,  recalling  a  certain  "Mammoth"  packet  of 
note-paper  that  had  come  on  an  evil  end  before 
Lewisham  found  his  industrial  level.  This  remi- 
niscence always  irritated  him  exceedingly. 

"  Eh?"  he  said  sharply. 

"  You  tried  to  write  one,"  repeated  Ethel — a  little 
unwillingly. 

"You  don't  mean  me  to  forget  that." 

"  It's  you  reminded  me." 

He  stared  hostility  for  a  space. 

"Well,  the  things  make  a  beastly  litter  anyhow, 
there  isn't  a  tidy  corner  anywhere  in  the  room. 
There  never  is." 

"  That's  just  the  sort  of  thing  you  always  say." 

"Well — is  there?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is." 

"Where?  " 

Ethel  professed  not  to  hear.  But  a  devil  had  pos- 
session of  Lewisham  for  a  time.  "  It  isn't  as  though 
you  had  anything  else  to  do,"  he  remarked,  wound- 
ing dishonourably. 

Ethel  turned.     "  If  I  put  those  things  away,"  she 


CONCERNING  A  QUARREL  259 

said  with  tremendous  emphasis  on  the  "jut"  "  you'd 
only  say  I'd  hidden  them.  What  is  the  good  of 
trying  to  please  you?" 

The  spirit  of  perversity  suggested  to  Lewisham, 
"  None  apparently." 

Ethel's  cheeks  glowed  and  her  eyes  were  bright 
with  unshed  tears.  Abruptly  she  abandoned  the 
defensive  and  blurted  out  the  thing  that  had  been 
latent  so  long  between  them.  Her  voice  took  a 
note  of  passion.  "  Nothing  I  can  do  ever  does 
please  you,  since  that  Miss  Heydinger  began  to 
write  to  you." 

There  was  a  pause,  a  gap.  Something  like  aston- 
ishment took  them  both.  Hitherto  it  had  been  a 
convention  that  she  knew  nothing  of  the  existence 
of  Miss  Heydinger.  He  saw  a  light.  "  How  did 
you  know?"  he  began,  and  perceived  that  line  was 
impossible.  He  took  the  way  of  the  natural  man  ; 
he  ejaculated  an  "  Ugh  !  "  of  vast  disgust,  he  raised 
his  voice.  "  You  are  unreasonable ! "  he  cried  in 
angry  remonstrance.  "  Fancy  saying  that  !  As 
though  you  ever  tried  to  please  me !  Just  as 
though  it  wasn't  all  the  other  way  about  !  "  He 
stopped — struck  by  a  momentary  perception  of  in- 
justice. He  plunged  at  the  point  he  had  shirked. 
11  How  did  you  know  it  was  Miss  Heydinger — ?  " 

Ethel's  voice  took  upon  itself  the  quality  of  tears. 
"  I  wasn't  meant  to  know,  was  I  ?  "  she  said. 


26b         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

" But  how?" 

"  I  suppose  you  think  it  doesn't  concern  me?  I 
suppose  you  think  I'm  made  of  stone." 

"  You  mean — you  think —  ?  " 

"Yes— I  do." 

For  a  brief  interval  Lewisham  stared  at  the  issue 
she  had  laid  bare.  He  sought  some  crushing  prop- 
osition, some  line  of  convincing  reasoning,  with 
which  to  overwhelm  and  hide  this  new  aspect  of 
things.  It  would  not  come.  He  found  himself 
fenced  in  on  every  side.  A  surging,  irrational  rage 
seized  upon  him. 

"  Jealousy  !  "  he  cried.  "  Jealousy  !  Just  as 
though —  Can't  I  have  letters  about  things  you 
don't  understand — that  you  won't  understand  ?  If 
I  asked  you  to  read  them  you  wouldn't —  It's  just 
because — " 

"  You  never  give  me  a  cha?ice  to  understand." 

"Don't  I?" 

"No!" 

"  Why  ! — At  first  I  was  always  trying.  Socialism, 
religion — all  those  things.  But  you  don't  care — you 
won't  care.  You  won't  have  that  I've  thought  over 
these  things  at  all,  that  I  care  for  these  things  I  It 
wasn't  any  good  to  argue.  You  just  care  for  me  in  a 
way — and  all  the  rest  of  me — doesn't  matter.'  An<i 
because  I've  got  a  friend  ..." 

"  Friend !  " 


CONCERNING  A  QUARREL  261 

"Yes — friend /  " 

"  Why  ! — you  hide  her  letters  !  " 

"Because  I  tell  you  you  wouldn't  understand 
what  they  are  about.  But,  pah  !  I  won't  argue.  I 
wont !  You're  jealous  and  there's  the  end  of  the 
matter!  " 

"  Well,  who  wouldn't  be  jealous?  " 

He  stared  at  her  as  if  he  found  the  question  hard 
to  see.  The  theme  was  difficult — invincibly  diffi- 
cult. He  surveyed  the  room  for  a  diversion.  The 
note-book  he  had  disinterred  from  her  novelettes 
lay  upon  the  table  and  reminded  him  of  his  griev- 
ance of  ruined  hours.  His  rage  exploded.  He 
struck  out  abruptly  towards  fundamental  things. 
He  gesticulated  forcibly.  "  This  can't  go  on  !  "  he 
cried,  "  this  can't  go  on!  How  can  I  work?  How 
can  I  do  anything?" 

He  made  three  steps  and  stood  in  a  clear  space. 

u  I  won't  stand  it — I  won't  go  on  at  this  !  Quar- 
rels— bickerings — discomfort.  Look  there  !  I 
meant  to  work  this  morning.  I  meant  to  look  up 
notes  !     Instead  of  which  you  start  a  quarrel — " 

The  gross  injustice  raised  Ethel's  voice  to  an  out- 
cry.    "  /  didn't  start  the  quarrel — " 

The  only  response  to  this  was  to  shout,  and  Lew- 
isham  shouted.  "  You  start  a  quarrel  !  "  he  repeated. 
"  You  make  a  shindy  !  You  spring  a  dispute — 
jealousy  ! — on  me  !     How  can  I  do  anything  ?     How 


262  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

can  one  stop  in  a  house  like  this?  I  shall  go  out. 
Look  here  ! — I  shall  go  out.  I  shall  go  to  Ken- 
sington and  work  there  !  " 

He  perceived  himself  wordless,  and  Ethel  was 
about  to  speak.  He  glared  about  him,  seeking  a 
prompt  climax.  Instant  action  was  necessary.  He 
perceived  Huxley's  Vertebrata  upon  the  side-table. 
He  clutched  it,  swayed  it  through  a  momentous  arc, 
hurled  it  violently  into  the  empty  fireplace. 

For  a  second  he  seemed  to  be  seeking  some  other 
missile.  He  perceived  his  hat  on  the  chest  of 
drawers,  seized  it  and  strode  tragically  from  the  room. 

He  hesitated  with  the  door  half  closed,  then 
opened  it  wide  and  slammed  it  vehemently.  There- 
by the  world  was  warned  of  the  justice  of  his  rage, 
and  so  he  passed  with  credit  into  the  street. 

He  went  striding  heedless  of  his  direction  through 
the  streets  dotted  with  intent  people  hurrying  to 
work,  and  presently  habit  turned  his  feet  towards 
the  Brompton  Road.  The  eastward  trend  of  the 
morning  traffic  caught  him.  For  a  time,  save  for  a 
rebellious  ingredient  of  wonder  at  the  back  of  his 
mind,  he  kept  his  anger  white  and  pure.  Why  had 
he  married  her?  was  the  text  to  which  he  clung. 
Why  in  the  name  of  destiny  had  he  married  her? 
But  anyhow  he  had  said  the  decisive  thing.  He 
would  not  stand  it !  It  must  end.  Things  were 
intolerable  and  they  must  end.     He  meditated  dev- 


CONCERNING  A  QUARREL  263 

astating  things  that  he  might  presently  say  to  her 
in  pursuance  of  this  resolution.  He  contemplated 
acts  of  cruelty.  In  such  ways  he  would  demonstrate 
clearly  that  he  would  not  stand  it.  He  was  very 
careful  to  avoid  inquiring  what  it  was  he  would  not 
stand. 

How  in  the  name  of  destiny  had  he  come  to 
marry  her?  The  quality  of  his  surroundings 
mingled  in  some  way  with  the  quality  of  his 
thoughts.  The  huge  distended  buildings  of  corru- 
gated iron  in  which  the  Art  Museum  (of  all  places  !) 
culminates,  the  truncated  Oratory  all  askew  to  the 
street,  seemed  to  have  a  similar  quarrel  with  fate. 
How  in  the  name  of  destiny  ?  After  such  high  pro- 
lusions ! 

He  found  that  his  thoughts  had  carried  him  past 
the  lodge  of  the  museum.  He  turned  back  irritably 
and  went  through  the  turnstile.  He  entered  the 
museum  and  passed  beneath  the  gallery  of  Old 
Iron  on  his  way  to  the  Education  Library.  The 
vacant  array  of  tables,  the  bays  of  attendant  books 
had  a  quality  of  refuge.  .  .  . 

So  much  for  Lewisham  in  the  morning.  Long 
before  midday  all  the  vigour  of  his  wrath  was 
gone,  all  his  passionate  conviction  of  Ethel's  un- 
worthiness.  Over  a  pile  of  neglected  geological 
works  he  presented  a  face  of  gloom.  His  memory 
presented  a  picture  of  himself  as  noisy,  overbearing, 
and  unfair.     What  on  earth  had  it  all  been  about  ? 


264         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

By  two  o'clock  he  was  on  his  way  to  Vigours*, 
and  his  mood  was  acute  remorse.  Of  the  transition 
there  can  be  no  telling  in  words,  for  thoughts  are 
more  subtle  than  words  and  emotions  infinitely 
vaguer.  But  one  thing  at  least  is  definite,  that  a 
memory  returned. 

It  drifted  in  to  him,  through  the  glass  roof  of  the 
Library  far  above.  He  did  not  perceive  it  as  a 
memory  at  first,  but  as  an  irritating  obstacle  to  at- 
tention. He  struck  the  open  pages  of  the  book  be- 
fore him  with  his  flat  hand.  "  Damn  that  infernal 
hurdy-gurdy  !  "  he  whispered. 

Presently  he  made  a  fretful  movement  and  put 
his  hands  over  his  ears. 

Then  he  thrust  his  books  from  him,  got  up,  and 
wandered  about  the  Library.  The  organ  came  to 
an  abrupt  end  in  the  middle  of  a  bar,  and  vanished 
in  the  circumambient  silence  of  space. 

Lewisham  standing  in  a  bay  closed  a  book  with  a 
snap  and  returned  to  his  seat. 

Presently  he  found  himself  humming  a  languid 
tune,  and  thinking  again  of  the  quarrel  that  he  had 
imagined  banished  from  his  mind.  What  in  the 
name  of  destiny  had  it  all  been  about?  He  had  a 
curious  sense  that  something  had  got  loose,  was 
sliding  about  in  his  mind.  And  as  if  by  way  of 
answer  emerged  a  vision  of  Whortley — a  singularly 
vivid  vision.     It  was  moonlight  and  a  hillside,  the 


CONCERNING  A  QUARREL  265 

little  town  lay  lit  and  warm  below,  and  the  scene 
was  set  to  music,  a  lugubriously  sentimental  air. 
For  some  reason  this  music  had  the  quality  of  a 
barrel  organ — though  he  knew  that  properly  it  came 
from  a  band — and  it  associated  with  itself  a  mysti- 
cal formula  of  words,  drawing  words  : — 

"  Sweet  dreamland  fa — ces  passing  to  and  fro, 
Bring  back  to  mem'ry,  days  of  long  ago — oh  !  " 

This  air  not  only  reproduced  the  picture  with 
graphic  vividness,  but  it  trailed  after  it  an  enormous 
cloud  of  irrational  emotion,  emotion  that  had  but 
a  moment  before  seemed  gone  for  ever  from  his 
being. 

He  recalled  it  all !  He  had  come  down  that  hill- 
side and  Ethel  had  been  with  him.  .  .  . 

Had  he  really  felt  like  that  about  her? 

"  Pah  !  "  he  said  suddenly  and  reverted  to  his 
books. 

But  the  tune  and  the  memory  had  won  their  foot- 
ing, they  were  with  him  through  his  meagre  lunch 
of  milk  and  scones — he  had  resolved  at  the  outset 
he  would  not  go  back  to  her  for  the  midday  meal — 
and  on  his  way  to  Vigours'  they  insisted  on  atten- 
tion. It  may  be  that  lunching  on  scone  and  milk 
does  in  itself  make  for  milder  ways  of  thinking.  A 
sense  of  extraordinary  contradiction,  of  infinite  per- 
plexity, came  to  him. 

"  But  then,"  he  asked,  "how  the  devil  did  we  get 
to  this  t  " 


266         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Which  is  indeed  one  of  the  fundamental  questions 
of  matrimony. 

The  morning  tumults  had  given  place  to  an  al- 
most scientific  calm.  Very  soon  he  was  grappling 
manfully  with  the  question.  There  was  no  disput- 
ing it,  they  had  quarrelled.  Not  once  but  several 
times  lately  they  had  quarrelled.  It  was  real  quar- 
relling ; — they  had  stood  up  against  one  another, 
striking,  watching  to  strike,  seeking  to  wound.  He 
tried  to  recall  just  how  things  had  gone— what  he 
had  said  and  what  she  had  replied.  He  could  not 
do  it.  He  had  forgotten  phrases  and  connexions. 
It  stood  in  his  memory  not  as  a  sequence  of  events 
but  as  a  collection  of  disconnected  static  sayings  ; 
each  saying  blunt,  permanent,  inconsecutive  like  a 
graven  inscription.  And  of  the  scene  there  came 
only  one  picture — Ethel  with  a  burning  face  and  her 
eyes  shining  with  tears. 

The  traffic  of  a  cross  street  engaged  him  for  a  space. 
He  emerged  on  the  further  side  full  of  the  vivid 
contrast  of  their  changed  relations.  He  made  a 
last  effort  to  indict  her,  to  show  that  for  the  transi- 
tion she  was  entirely  to  blame.  She  had  quarrelled 
with  him,  she  had  quarrelled  deliberately  because  she 
was  jealous.  She  was  jealous  of  Miss  Heydinger 
because  she  was  stupid.  But  now  these  accusations 
faded  like  smoke  as  he  put  them  forth.  But  the 
picture  of  two  little  figures  back  there  in  the  moon- 
lit  past  did   not  fade.     It   was  in   the  narrows  of 


CONCERNING  A  QUARREL  267 

Kensington  High  Street  that  he  abandoned  her  ar- 
raignment. It  was  beyond  the  Town  Hall  that  he 
made  the  new  step.  Was  it,  after  all,  just  possible 
that  in  some  degree  he  himself  rather  was  the  chief 
person  to  blame  ? 

It  was  instantly  as  if  he  had  been  aware  of  that 
all  the  time. 

Once  he  had  made  that  step,  he  moved  swiftly. 
Not  a  hundred  paces  before  the  struggle  was  over, 
and  he  had  plunged  headlong  into  the  blue  abyss 
of  remorse.  And  all  these  things  that  had  been  so 
dramatic  and  forcible,  all  the  vivid  brutal  things  he 
had  said,  stood  no  longer  graven  inscriptions  but 
in  letters  of  accusing  flame.  He  tried  to  imagine 
he  had  not  said  them,  that  his  memory  played  him 
a  trick,  tried  to  suppose  he  had  said  something 
similar  perhaps  but  much  less  forcible.  He  at- 
tempted with  almost  equal  futility  to  minimise  his 
own  wounds.  His  endeavour  served  only  to  measure 
the  magnitude  of  his  fall. 

He  had  recovered  everything  now,  he  saw  it  all. 
He  recalled  Ethel,  sunlit  in  the  avenue,  Ethel,  white 
in  the  moonlight  before  they  parted  outside  the 
Frobisher  house,  Ethel  as  she  would  come  out  of 
Lagune's  house  greeting  him  for  their  nightly  walk, 
Ethel  new  wedded,  as  she  came  to  him  through  the 
folding  doors  radiant  in  the  splendor  his  emotions 
threw  about  her.  And  at  last  Ethel  angry,  dis- 
hevelled and  tear-stained  in  that  ill-lit,  untidy  little 


268  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

room.  All  to  the  cadence  of  a  hurdy-gurdy  tune ! 
From  that  to  this !  How  had  it  been  possible  to 
get  from  such  an  opalescent  dawning  to  such  a  dis- 
mal day?  What  was  it  had  gone?  He  and  she 
were  the  same  two  persons  who  walked  so  brightly 
in  his  awakened  memory;  he  and  she  who  had  lived 
so  bitterly  through  the  last  few  weeks  of  misery ! 

His  mood  sank  for  a  space  to  the  quality  of  groan- 
ing. He  implicated  her  now  at  most  as  his  partner 
in  their  failure — "What  a  mess  we  have  made  of 
things  !  "  was  his  new  motif.     "  What  a  mess  !  " 

He  knew  love  now  for  what  it  was,  knew  it  for 
something  more  ancient  and  more  imperative  than 
reason.  He  knew  now  that  he  loved  her,  and  his 
recent  rage,  his  hostility,  his  condemnation  of  her 
seemed  to  him  the  reign  of  some  exterior  influence 
in  his  mind.  He  thought  incredulously  of  the  long 
decline  in  tenderness  that  had  followed  the  first 
days  of  their  delight  in  each  other,  the  diminution 
of  endearment,  the  first  yielding  to  irritability,  the 
evenings  he  had  spent  doggedly  working,  resisting 
all  his  sense  of  her  presence.  "  One  cannot  always 
be  love-making,"  he  had  said,  and  so — they  were 
slipping  apart.  Then  in  countless  little  things  he 
had  not  been  patient,  he  had  not  been  fair.  He 
had  wounded  her  by  harshness,  by  unsympathetic 
criticism,  above  all  by  his  absurd  secrecy  about  Miss 
Heydinger's  letters.     Why  on  earth  had  he  kept 


CONCERNING  A  QUARREL  269 

those  letters  from  her?  as  though  there  was  some* 
thing  to  hide  !  What  was  there  to  hide  ?  What 
possible  antagonism  could  there  be  ?  Yet  it  was 
by  such  little  things  that  their  love  was  now  like 
some  once  valued  possession  that  had  been  in  brutal 
hands,  it  was  scratched  and  chipped  and  tarnished, 
it  was  on  its  way  to  being  altogether  destroyed. 
Her  manner  had  changed  towards  him,  a  gulf  was 
opening  that  he  might  never  be  able  to  close  again. 

"  No,  it  shall  not  be  !  "  he  said,  "  it  shall  not  be  !  " 

But  how  to  get  back  to  the  old  footing  ?  how  to 
efface  the  things  he  had  said,  the  things  that  had 
been  done  ? 

Could  they  get  back  ? 

For  a  moment  he  faced  a  new  possibility.  Sup- 
pose they  could  not  get  back !  Suppose  the  mis- 
chief was  done !  Suppose  that  when  he  slammed 
the  door  behind  him  it  locked,  and  was  locked 
against  him  for  ever  ! 

"  But  we  mast  !  "  said  Lewisham,  "  we  must !  " 

He  perceived  clearly  that  this  was  no  business  of 
reasoned  apologies.  He  must  begin  again,  he  must 
get  back  to  emotion,  he  must  thrust  back  the  over- 
whelming pressure  of  every-day  stresses  and  neces- 
sities that  was  crushing  all  the  warmth  and  colour 
from  their  lives.     But  how?     How? 

He  must  make  love  to  her  again.  But  how  to 
begin — how  to  mark  the   change  ?     There  had  been 


2/0         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

making-up  before,  sullen  concessions  and  treaties. 
But  this  was  different.  He  tried  to  imagine  some- 
thing he  might  say,  some  appeal  that  he  might 
make.  Everything  he  thought  of  was  cold  and  hard, 
or  pitiful  and  undignified,  or  theatrical  and  foolish. 
Suppose  the  door  was  closed  !  If  already  it  was 
too  late  !  In  every  direction  he  was  confronted  by 
the  bristling  memories  of  harsh  things.  He  had  a 
glimpse  of  how  he  must  have  changed  in  her  eyes, 
and  things  became  intolerable  for  him.  For  now  he 
was  assured  he  loved  her  still  with  all  his  heart. 

And  suddenly  came  a  florist's  window,  and  in 
the  centre  of  it  a  glorious  heap  of  roses. 

They  caught  his  eye  before  they  caught  his 
mind.  He  saw  white  roses,  virginal  white,  roses  of 
cream  and  pink  and  crimson,  the  tints  of  flesh  and 
pearl,  rich,  a  mass  of  scented  colour,  visible  odours, 
and  in  the  midst  of  them  a  note  of  sullen  red.  It 
was  as  it  were  the  very  colour  of  his  emotion.  He 
stopped  abruptly.  He  turned  back  to  the  window 
and  stared  frankly.  It  was  gorgeous,  he  saw,  but 
why  so  particularly  did  it  appeal  to  him  ? 

Then  he  perceived  as  though  it  was  altogether 
self-evident  what  he  had  to  do.  This  was  what  he 
wanted.  This  was  the  note  he  had  to  strike.  Among 
other  things  because  it  would  repudiate  the  ac- 
cursed worship  of  pinching  self-restraint  that  was 
one  of  the  incessant  stresses  between  them.     They 


CONCERNING  A  QUARREL  271 

would  come  to  her  with  a  pure  unexpectedness, 
they  would  flame  upon  her. 

Then,  after  the  roses,  he  would  return. 

Suddenly  the  grey  trouble  passed  from  his  mind ; 
he  saw  the  world  full  of  colour  again.  He  saw  the 
scene  he  desired  bright  and  clear,  saw  Ethel  no 
longer  bitter  and  weeping,  but  glad  as  once  she  had 
always  seemed  glad.  His  heart-beats  quickened. 
It  was  giving  had  been  needed,  and  he  would  give. 

Some  weak  voice  of  indiscreet  discretion  squeaked 
and  vanished.  He  had,  he  knew,  a  sovereign  in  his 
pocket.      He  went  in. 

He  found  himself  in  front  of  a  formidable  young 
lady  in  black,  and  unprepared  with  any  formula. 
He  had  never  bought  flowers  before.  He  looked 
about  him  for  an  inspiration.  He  pointed  at  the 
roses.      "  I  want  those  roses,"  he  said.   .    .   . 

He  emerged  again  with  only  a  few  small  silver 
coins  remaining  out  of  the  sovereign  he  had  changed. 
The  roses  were  to  go  to  Ethel,  properly  packed; 
they  were  to  be  delivered  according  to  his  express 
direction  at  six  o'clock. 

"Six  o'clock,"  Lewisham  had  reiterated  very 
earnestly. 

"We  quite  understand,"  the  young  lady  in  black 
had  said,  and  had  pretended  to  be  unable  to  conceal 
a  smile.  "We're  quite  accustomed  to  sending  out 
flowers." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 
THE   COMING   OF   THE    ROSES 

And  the  roses  miscarried ! 

When  Lewisham  returned  from  Vigours'  it  was 
already  nearly  seven.  He  entered  the  house  with  a 
beating  heart.  He  had  expected  to  find  Ethel  ex- 
cited, the  roses  displayed.  But  her  face  was  white 
and  jaded.  He  was  so  surprised  by  this  that  the 
greeting  upon  his  lips  died  away.  He  was  balked  ! 
He  went  into  the  sitting-room  and  there  were  no 
roses  to  be  seen.  Ethel  came  past  him  and  stood 
with  her  back  to  him  looking  out  of  the  window. 
The  suspense  was  suddenly  painful.    .   .   . 

He  was  obliged  to  ask,  though  he  was  certain  of 
the  answer,  "  Has  nothing  come?" 

Ethel  looked  at  him.  "What  did  you  think  had 
come?" 

"Oh!   nothing." 

She  looked  out  of  the  window  again.  "  No,"  she 
said  slowly,  "  nothing  has  come." 

He  tried  to  think  of  something  to  say  that  might 
bridge  the  distance  between  them,  but  he  could  think 
272 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ROSES        273 

of  nothing.  He  must  wait  until  the  roses  came.  He 
took  out  his  books  and  a  gaunt  hour  passed  to  sup- 
per time.  Supper  was  a  chilly  ceremonial  set  with 
necessary  over-polite  remarks.  Disappointment  and 
exasperation  darkened  Lewisham's  soul.  He  began 
to  feel  angry  with  everything — even  with  her — he 
perceived  she  still  judged  him  angry  and  that  made 
him  angry  with  her.  He  was  resuming  his  books 
and  she  was  helping  Madam  Gadow's  servant  to 
clear  away,  when  they  heard  a  rapping  at  the  street 
door.  "  They  have  come  at  last,"  he  said  to  himself 
brightening,  and  hesitated  whether  he  should  bolt 
or  witness  her  reception  of  them.  The  servant  was 
a  nuisance.  Then  he  heard  Chaffery's  voice,  and 
whispered  a  soft  "damn! "  to  himself. 

The  only  thing  to  do  now  if  the  roses  came  was  to 
slip  out  into  the  passage,  intercept  them  and  carry 
them  into  the  bedroom  by  the  door  between  that 
and  the  passage.  It  would  be  undesirable  for  Chaf- 
fery  to  witness  that  phase  of  sentiment.  He  might 
flash  some  dart  of  ridicule  that  would  stick  in  their 
memory  for  ever. 

Lewisham   tried  to  show  that   he  did  not  want  a 

visitor.     But  Chaffery  was  in  high   spirits  and  could 

have  warmed  a  dozen  cold  welcomes.     He  sat  down 

without  any  express  invitation  in  the  chair  that    he 

preferred. 

Before    Mr.  and     Mrs.  Chaffery    the    Lewishams 
18 


274  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

veiled  whatever  trouble  might  be  between  them  be- 
neath an  insincere  cordiality,  and  Chaffery  was  soon 
talking  freely,  unsuspicious  of  their  crisis.  He  pro- 
duced two  cigars.  "  I  had  a  wild  moment,"  he  said. 
"  '  For  once,'  said  I,  '  the  honest  shall  smoke  the  ad- 
mirable— or  the  admirable  shall  smoke  the  honest,' 
whichever  you  like  best.  Try  one  ?  No  ?  Those 
austere  principles  of  yours!  There  will  be  more 
pleasure  then.  But  really,  I  would  as  soon  you 
smoked  it  as  I.     For  to-night  I  radiate  benevolence." 

He  cut  the  cigar  with  care,  he  lit  it  with  cere- 
mony, waiting  until  nothing  but  honest  wood  was 
burning  on  the  match,  and  for  fully  a  minute  he  was 
silent,  evolving  huge  puffs  of  smoke.  And  then  he 
spoke  again,  punctuating  his  words  by  varied  and 
beautiful  spirals.  "So  far,"  he  said,  "I  have  only 
trifled  with  knavery." 

As  Lewisham  said  nothing  he  resumed  after  a 
pause. 

"  There  are  three  sorts  of  men  in  the  world,  my 
boy,  three  and  no  more — and  of  women  only  one. 
There  are  happy  men  and  there  are  knaves  and  fools. 
Hybrids  I  don't  count.  And  to  my  mind  knaves 
and  fools  are  very  much  alike." 

He  paused  again. 

"  I  suppose  they  are,"  said  Lewisham  flatly,  and 
frowned  at  the  fireplace. 

Chaffery  eyed  him.     "lam  talking  wisdom.     To- 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ROSES       275 

night  I  am  talking  a  particular  brand  of  wisdom.  I 
am  broaching  some  of  my  oldest  and  finest,  because 
— as  you  will  find  one  day — this  is  a  special  occasion. 
And  you  are  distrait !  " 

Lewisham  looked  up.     "  Birthday  ?"  he  said. 

"  You  will  see.  But  I  was  making  golden  obser- 
vations about  knaves  and  fools.  I  was  early  con- 
vinced of  the  absolute  necessity  of  righteousness  if 
a  man  is  to  be  happy.  I  know  it  as  surely  as  there 
is  a  sun  in  the  heavens.     Does  that  surprise  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  hardly  squares — " 

"  No.  I  know.  I  will  explain  all  that.  But  let 
me  tell  you  the  happy  life.  Let  me  give  you  that, 
as  if  I  lay  on  my  deathbed  and  this  was  a  parting 
gift.  In  the  first  place,  mental  integrity.  Prove  all 
things,  hold  fast  to  that  which  is  right.  Let  the 
world  have  no  illusions  for  you,  no  surprises.  Nature 
is  full  of  cruel  catastrophies,  man  is  a  physically  de- 
generate ape,  every  appetite,  every  instinct,  needs 
the  curb ;  salvation  is  not  in  the  nature  of  things 
but  whatever  salvation  there  may  be  is  in  the  nature 
of  man  ;  face  all  these  painful  things.  I  hope  you 
follow  that  ?  " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Lewisham,  with  the  debating-so- 
ciety taste  for  a  thesis  prevailing  for  a  minute  over 
that  matter  of  the  roses. 

"  In  youth,  exercise  and  learning;  in  adolescence, 
ambition,  and  in  early  manhood,  love — no  footlight 


276         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

passion."  Chaffery  was  very  solemn  and  insistent, 
with  a  lean  extended  finger,  upon  this  point. 

"Then  marriage,  young  and  decent,  and  then 
children  and  stout  honest  work  for  them,  work  too  for 
the  State  in  which  they  live  ;  a  life  of  self-devotion, 
indeed,  and  for  sunset  a  decent  pride — that  is  the 
happy  life.  Rest  assured  that  is  the  happy  life ;  the 
life  Natural  Selection  has  been  shaping  for  man 
since  life  began.  So  a  man  may  go  happy  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave — at  least — passably  happy.  And 
to  do  this  needs  just  three  things — a  sound  body,  a 
sound  intelligence,  and  a  sound  will  ...  A  sound 
will." 

Chaffery  paused  on  the  repetition. 

"  No  other  happiness  endures.  And  when  all  men 
are  wise,  all  men  will  seek  that  life.  Fame  !  Wealth ! 
Art ! — the  Red  Indians  worship  lunatics,  and  we  are 
still  by  way  of  respecting  the  milder  sorts.  But  I 
say  that  all  men  who  do  not  lead  that  happy  life  are 
knaves  and  fools.  The  physical  cripple,  you  know, 
poor  devil,  I  count  a  sort  of  bodily  fool." 

"  Yes,"  weighed  Lewisham,  "  I  suppose  he  is." 

"  Now  a  fool  fails  of  happiness  because  of  his  in- 
sufficient mind,  he  miscalculates,  he  stumbles  and 
hobbles,  some  cant  or  claptrap  whirls  him  away ;  he 
gets  passion  out  of  a  book  and  a  wife  out  of  the 
stews,  or  he  quarrels  on  a  petty  score;  threats 
frighten  him,  vanity  beguiles  him,  he  fails  by  blind- 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ROSES       277 

ness.  But  the  knave  who  is  not  a  fool  fails  against 
the  light.  Many  knaves  are  fools  also — most  are — 
but  some  are  not.  I  know — I  am  a  knave  but  no 
fool.  The  essence  of  your  knave  is  that  he  lacks 
the  will,  the  motive  capacity  to  seek  his  own  greater 
good.  The  knave  abhors  persistence.  Strait  is  the 
way  and  narrow  the  gate ;  the  knave  cannot  keep  to 
it  and  the  fool  cannot  find  it." 

Lewisham  lost  something  of  what  Chaffery  was 
saying  by  reason  of  a  rap  outside.  He  rose,  but 
Ethel  was  before  him.  He  concealed  his  anxiety  as 
well  as  he  could,  and  was  relieved  when  he  heard  the 
front  door  close  again  and  her  footsteps  pass  into  the 
bedroom  by  the  passage  door.  He  reverted  to  Chaf- 
fery. 

"  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,"  asked  Chaffery, 
apparently  apropos  of  nothing,  "  that  intellectual 
conviction  is  no  motive  at  all  ?  Any  more  than  a 
railway  map  will  run  a  train  a  mile." 

"Eh?"  said  Lewisham.  "  Map — run  a  train  a 
mile — of  course,  yes.     No,  it  won't." 

"  That  is  precisely  my  case,"  said  Chaffery.  "  That 
is  the  case  of  your  pure  knave  everywhere.  We  are 
not  fools — because  we  know.  But  yonder  runs  the 
highway,  windy,  hard  and  austere,  a  sort  of  dry  hap- 
piness that  will  endure  ;  and  here  is  the  pleasant 
by-way — lush,  my  boy,  lush,  as  the  poets  have  it, 
and  with  its  certain  man-trap  among  the  flowers  .  .  ." 


27$         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Ethel  returned  through  the  folding  doors.  She 
glanced  at  Lewisham,  remained  standing  for  awhile, 
sat  down  in  the  basket  chair  as  if  to  resume  some 
domestic  needlework  that  lay  upon  the  table,  then 
rose  and  went  back  into  the  bedroom. 

Chaffery  proceeded  to  expatiate  on  the  transitory 
nature  of  passion  and  all  glorious  and  acute  experi- 
ences. Whole  passages  of  that  discourse  Lewisham 
did  not  hear,  so  intent  was  he  upon  those  roses. 
Why  had  Ethel  gone  back  into  the  bedroom  ?  Was 
it  possible — ?  Presently  she  returned,  but  she  sat 
down  so  that  he  could  not  see  her  face. 

"  If  there  is  one  thing  to  set  against  the  whole- 
some life  it  is  adventure,"  Chaffery  was  saying. 
"  But  let  every  adventurer  pray  for  an  early  death, 
for  with  adventure  come  wounds,  and  with  wounds 
come  sickness,  and — except  in  romances — sickness 
affects  the  nervous  system.  Your  nerve  goes.  Where 
are  you  then,  my  boy?" 

"  Ssh  !  what's  that?  "  said  Lewisham. 

It  was  a  rap  at  the  house  door.  Heedless  of  the 
flow  of  golden  wisdom,  he  went  out  at  once  and  ad- 
mitted a  gentleman  friend  of  Madam  Gadow,  who 
passed  along  the  passage  and  vanished  down  the 
staircase.  When  he  returned  Chaffery  was  standing 
to  go. 

"  I  could  have  talked  with  you  longer,"  he  said 
*  but  you  have  something  on  your  mind,  I  see.     I 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ROSES       279 

will  not  worry  you  by  guessing  what.  Some  day 
you  will  remember  .  .  ."  He  said  no  more  but  laid 
his  hand  on  Lewisham's  shoulder. 

One  might  almost  fancy  he  was  offended  at  some- 
thing. 

At  any  other  time  Lewisham  might  have  been 
propitiatory,  but  now  he  offered  no  apology.  Chaf- 
fery  turned  to  Ethel  and  looked  at  her  curiously  for 
a  moment.  "  Good-bye,"  he  said,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  her. 

On  the  doorstep  Chafferv  regarded  Lewisham  with 
the  same  curious  look,  and  seemed  to  weigh  some  re- 
mark. "  Good-bye,"  he  said  at  last  with  something 
in  his  manner  that  kept  Lewisham  at  the  door  for 
a  moment  looking  after  his  stepfather's  receding 
figure.  But  immediately  the  roses  were  uppermost 
again. 

When  he  re-entered  the  living  room  he  found 
Ethel  sitting  idly  at  her  typewriter,  playing  with  the 
keys.  She  got  up  at  his  return  and  sat  down  in  the 
armchair  with  a  novelette  that  hid  her  face.  He 
stared  at  her,  full  of  questions.  After  all,  then,  they 
had  not  come.  He  was  intensely  disappointed  now, 
he  was  intensely  angry  with  the  ineffable  young 
shop-woman  in  black.  He  looked  at  his  watch  and 
then  again,  he  took  a  book  and  pretended  to  read 
and  found  himself  composing  a  scathing  speech  of 
remonstrance  to  be  delivered  on  the  morrow  at  the 


280         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

flower-shop.  He  put  his  book  down,  went  to  his 
black  bag,  opened  and  closed  it  aimlessly.  He 
glanced  covertly  at  Ethel  and  found  her  looking 
covertly  at  him.  He  could  not  quite  understand  her 
expression. 

He  fidgeted  into  the  bedroom  and  stopped  as  dead 
as  a  pointer. 

He  felt  an  extraordinary  persuasion  of  the  scent 
of  roses.  So  strong  did  it  seem  that  he  glanced  out- 
side the  room  door,  expecting  to  find  a  box  there, 
mysteriously  arrived.  But  there  was  no  scent  of 
roses  in  the  passage. 

Then  he  saw  close  by  his  foot  an  enigmatical  pale 
object,  and  stooping,  picked  up  the  creamy  petal  of 
a  rose.  He  stood  with  it  in  his  hand,  perplexed 
beyond  measure.  He  perceived  a  slight  disorder  of 
the  valence  of  the  dressing-table  and  linked  it  with 
this  petal  by  a  swift  intuition. 

He  made  two  steps,  lifted  the  valence,  and  behold  ! 
there  lay  his  roses  crushed  together ! 

He  gasped  like  a  man  who  plunges  suddenly  into 
cold  water.  He  remained  stooping  with  the  valence 
raised. 

Ethel  appeared  in  the  half  doorway  and  her  ex- 
pression was  unfamiliar.  He  stared  at  her  white 
face. 

"  Why  on  earth  did  you  put  my  roses  here?"  he 
asked. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ROSES       281 

She  stared  back  at  him.  Her  face  reflected  his 
astonishment. 

"  Why  did  you  put  my  roses  here? "he  asked 
again. 

"  Your  roses !  "  she  cried.  "  What !  Did  you  send 
those  roses?" 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THORNS   AND   ROSE   PETALS 

He  remained  stooping  and  staring  up  at  her, 
realising  the  implication  of  her  words  only  very 
slowly. 

Then  it  grew  clear  to  him. 

As  she  saw  understanding  dawning  in  his  face, 
she  uttered  a  cry  of  consternation.  She  came  for- 
ward and  sat  down  upon  the  little  bedroom  chair. 
She  turned  to  him  and  began  a  sentence.  "  I,"  she 
said  and  stopped,  with  an  impatient  gesture  of  her 
hands.     "  Oh  /  " 

He  straightened  himself  and  stood  regarding 
her.  The  basket  of  roses  lay  overturned  between 
them. 

"  You  thought  these  came  from  someone  else?" 
he  said,  trying  to  grasp  this  inversion  of  the  uni- 
verse. 

She  turned  her   eyes.     "  I   did   not  know,"   she 
282 


THORNS  AND  ROSE  PETALS        283 

panted.  "  A  trap.  .  .  .  Was  it  likely — they  came 
from  you  ?  " 

"  You  thought  they  came  from  someone  else,"  he 
said. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  did." 

"  Who  ?  " 

u  Mr.  Baynes." 

u  That  boy  !  " 

"  Yes— that  boy." 

"  Well ! " 

Levvisham  looked  about  him — a  man  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  inconceivable. 

"You  mean  to  say  you  have  been  carrying 
on  with  that  youngster  behind  my  back  ? "  he 
asked. 

She  opened  her  lips  to  speak  and  had  no  words 
to  say. 

His  pallour  increased  until  every  tinge  of  colour 
had  left  his  face.  He  laughed  and  then  set  his 
teeth.     Husband  and  wife  looked  at  one  another. 

"  I  never  dreamt,"  he  said  in  even  tones. 

He  sat  down  on  the  bed,  thrusting  his  feet  among 
the  scattered  roses  with  a  sort  of  grim  satisfaction. 
"  I  never  dreamt,"  he  repeated,  and  the  flimsy  basket 
kicked  by  his  swinging  foot  hopped  indignantly 
through  the  folding  doors  into  the  living-room  and 
left  a  trail  of  blood-red  petals. 

They  sat  for  perhaps  two   minutes  and  when  he 


284         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

spoke  again  his  voice  was  hoarse.  He  reverted  to 
a  former  formula.  "  Look  here,"  he  said,  and  cleared 
his  throat.  "  I  don't  know  whether  you  think  I'm 
going  to  stand  this,  but  I'm  not." 

He  looked  at  her.  She  sat  staring  in  front  of 
her,  making  no  attempt  to  cope  with  disaster. 

"  When  I  say  I'm  not  going  to  stand  it,"  explained 
Lewisham,  "  I  don't  mean  having  a  row  or  anything 
of  that  sort.  One  can  quarrel  and  be  disappointed 
over — other  things — and  still  go  on.  But  this  is  a 
different  thing  altogether. 

"  Of  all  dreams  and  illusions  !  .  .  .  Think  what  I 
have  lost  in  this  accursed  marriage.  And  now  .  .  . 
You  don't  understand — you  won't  understand." 

"  Nor  you,"  said  Ethel,  weeping  but  neither 
looking  at  him  nor  moving  her  hands  from  her 
lap  where  they  lay  helplessly.  "  You  don't  under- 
stand." 

11  I'm  beginning  to." 

He  sat  in  silence  gathering  force.  "  In  one  year," 
he  said,  "  all  my  hopes,  all  my  ambitions  have  gone. 
I  know  I  have  been  cross  and  irritable — I  know  that. 
I've  been  pulled  two  ways.  But  ...  I  bought  you 
these  roses." 

She  looked  at  the  roses,  and  then  at  his  white 
face,  made  an  imperceptible  movement  towards 
him,  and  became  impassive  again. 

"  I  do  think  one  thing.     I  have  found  out  you  are 


THORNS  AND  ROSE  PETALS        285 

shallow,  you  don't  think,  you  can't  feel  things  that 
I  think  and  feel.  I  have  been  getting  over  that. 
But  I  did  think  you  were  loyal — " 

"  I  am  loyal,"  she  cried. 

"  And  you  think — Bah  ! — you  poke  my  roses 
under  the  table  !  " 

Another  portentous  silence.  Ethel  stirred  and 
he  turned  his  eyes  to  watch  what  she  was  about  to 
do.  She  produced  her  handkerchief  and  began  to 
wipe  her  dry  eyes  rapidly,  first  one  and  then  the 
other.  Then  she  began  sobbing.  "  I'm  ...  as 
loyal  as  you  .  .  .  anyhow,"  she  said. 

For  a  moment  Lewisham  was  aghast.  Then  he 
perceived  he  must  ignore  that  argument. 

"  I  would  have  stood  it — I  would  have  stood  any- 
thing if  you  had  been  loyal — if  I  could  have  been 
sure  of  you.  I  am  a  fool,  I  know,  but  I  would  have 
stood  the  interruption  of  my  work,  the  loss  of  any 
hope  of  a  Career,  if  I  had  been  sure  you  were  loyal. 
I  ...  I  cared  for  you  a  great  deal." 

He  stopped.  He  had  suddenly  perceived  the 
pathetic.     He  took  refuge  in  anger. 

"And  you  have  deceived  me!  How  long,  how 
much,  I  don't  care.  You  have  deceived  me.  And 
I  tell  you  " — he  began  to  gesticulate — "  I'm  not 
so  much  your  slave  and  fool  as  to  stand  that  !  No 
woman  shall  make  mc  that  sort  of  fool,  whatever 
else —     So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  this  ends  things. 


286         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

This  ends  things.  We  are  married — but  I  don't 
care  if  we  were  married  five  hundred  times.  I  won't 
stop  with  a  woman  who  takes  flowers  from  another 
man — " 

"  I  didrit"  said  Ethel. 

Lewisham  gave  way  to  a  transport  of  anger.  He 
caught  up  a  handful  of  roses  and  extended  them, 
trembling.  "  What's  this  ?  "  he  asked.  His  finger 
bled  from  a  thorn,  as  once  it  had  bled  from  a  black- 
thorn spray. 

"  I  didn't  take  them,"  said  Ethel.  "  I  couldn't 
help  it  if  they  were  sent." 

"  Ugh  !  "  said  Lewisham.  "  But  what  is  the  good 
of  argument  and  denial  ?  You  took  them  in,  you 
had  them.  You  may  have  been  cunning,  but  you 
have  given  yourself  away.  And  our  life  and  all 
this" — he  waved  an  inclusive  hand  at  Madam 
Gadow's  furniture — "  is  at  an  end." 

He  looked  at  her  and  repeated  with  bitter  satis- 
faction, "  At  an  end." 

She  glanced  at  his  face  and  his  expression  was  re- 
morseless. "  I  will  not  go  on  living  with  you,"  he 
said,  lest  there  should  be  any  mistake.  "  Our  life 
is  at  an  end." 

Her  eyes  went  from  his  face  to  the  scattered 
roses.  She  remained  staring  at  these.  She  was  no 
longer  weeping,  and  her  face,  save  about  the  eyes, 
was  white. 


THORNS  AND  ROSE  PETALS        287 

He  presented  it  in  another  form.  "  I  shall  go 
away. 

"  We  never  ought  to  have  married,"  he  reflected. 
"  But  ...  I  never  expected  this  !  " 

"  I  didn't  know,"  she  cried  out,  lifting  up  her 
voice.    "  I  didrit  know.     How  could  /help  !     Oil  !  ' 

She  stopped  and  stared  at  him  with  hands 
clenched,  her  eyes  haggard  with  despair. 

Lewisham  remained  impenetrably  malignant. 

"  I  don't  want  to  know,"  he  said,  answering  her 
dumb  appeal.  "  That  settles  everything.  That !  " 
He  indicated  the  scattered  flowers.  "  What  does 
it  matter  to  me  what  has  happened  or  hasn't  hap- 
pened ?  Anyhow — oh!  I  don't  mind.  I'm  glad. 
See?     It  settles  things. 

"  The  sooner  we  part  the  better.  I  shan't  stop 
with  you  another  night.  I  shall  take  my  box  and 
my  portmanteau  into  that  room  and  pack.  I  shall 
stop  in  thereto-night,  sleep  in  a  chair  or  think.  And 
to-morrow  I  shall  settle  up  with  Madam  Gadow  and 
go.     You  can  go  back  ...  to  your  cheating." 

He  stopped  for  some  seconds.  She  was  deadly 
still.  "  You  wanted  to,  and  now  you  may.  You 
wanted  to,  before  I  got  work.  You  remember? 
You  know  your  place  is  still  open  at  Lagune's.  I 
don't  care.  I  tell  you  I  don't  care  that.  Not  that  ! 
You  may  go  your  own  way — and  I  shall  go  mine. 
See  ?     And  all  this  rot — this  sham  of  living  together 


288  LOVE  AND  MR.   LEWISHAM 

when  neither  cares  for  the  other — I  don't  care  for 
you  noWy  you  know,  so  you  needn't  think  it — will 
be  over  and  done  with.  As  for  marriage — I  don't 
care  that  for  marriage — it  can't  make  a  sham  and 
a  blunder  anything  but  a  sham. 

"  It's  a  sham,  and  shams  have  to  end,  and  that's 
the  end  of  the  matter." 

He  stood  up  resolutely.  He  kicked  the  scattered 
roses  out  of  his  way  and  dived  beneath  the  bed  for 
his  portmanteau.  Ethel  neither  spoke  nor  moved, 
but  remained  watching  his  movements.  For  a  time 
the  portmanteau  refused  to  emerge,  and  he  marred 
his  stern  resolution  by  a  half  audible  "Come  here 
— damn  you  !  "  He  swung  it  into  the  living  room 
and  returned  for  his  box.  He  proposed  to  pack  in 
that  room. 

When  he  had  taken  all  his  personal  possessions 
out  of  the  bedroom,  he  closed  the  folding  doors 
with  an  air  of  finality.  He  knew  from  the  sounds 
that  followed  that  she  flung  herself  upon  the  bed, 
and  that  filled  him  with  grim  satisfaction. 

He  stood  listening  for  a  space,  then  set  about 
packing  methodically.  The  first  rage  of  discovery 
had  abated,  he  knew  quite  clearly  that  he  was  in- 
flicting grievous  punishment  and  that  gratified  him. 
There  was  also  indeed  a  curious  pleasure  in  the  de- 
termination of  a  long  and  painful  period  of  vague 
misunderstanding  by   this   unexpected    crisis.      He 


THORNS  AND  ROSE  PETALS        289 

was  acutely  conscious  of  the  silence  on  the  other 
side  of  the  folding  doors,  he  kept  up  a  succession 
of  deliberate  little  noises,  beat  books  together  and 
brushed  clothes,  to  intimate  the  resolute  prosecu- 
tion of  his  preparations. 

That  was  about  nine  o'clock.  At  eleven  he  was 
still  busy.   .   .   . 

Darkness  came  suddenly  upon  him.  It  was 
Madame  Gadow's  economical  habit  to  turn  off  all 
her  gas  at  that  hour  unless  she  chanced  to  be  enter- 
taining friends. 

He  felt  in  his  pocket  for  matches  and  he  had 
none.  He  whispered  curses.  Against  such  emer- 
gencies he  had  bought  a  brass  lamp  and  in  the  bed- 
room there  were  candles.  Ethel  had  a  candle  alight, 
he  could  see  the  bright  yellow  line  that  appeared 
between  the  folding  doors.  He  felt  his  way  pres- 
ently towards  the  mantel,  receiving  a  blow  in  the 
ribs  from  a  chair  on  the  way,  and  went  carefully 
amidst  Madam  Gadow's  once  amusing  ornaments. 

There  were  no  matches  on  the  mantel.  Going 
to  the  chest  of  drawers  he  almost  fell  over  his  open 
portmanteau.  He  had  a  silent  ccstacy  of  rage. 
Then  he  kicked  against  the  basket  in  which  the 
roses  had  come.  He  could  find  no  matches  on  the 
chest  of  drawers. 

Ethel  must  have   the   matches  in  the   bedroom, 

but    that    was    absolutely    impossible.       He    might 
19 


290        LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

even  have  to  ask  her  for  them,  for  at  times  she 
pocketed  matches.  .  .  .  There  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  stop  packing.  Not  a  sound  came  from  the 
other  room. 

He  decided  he  would  sit  down  in  the  armchair 

id  go  to  sleep.      He   crept  very  carefully  to  the 

lir  and  sat  down.     Another  interval  of  listening 

Hid   he  closed   his  eyes  and  composed  himself  for 

slumber. 

He  began  to  think  over  his  plans  for  the  morrow. 
He  imagined  the  scene  with  Madam  Gadow,  and 
then  his  departure  to  find  bachelor  lodgings  once 
more.  He  debated  in  what  direction  he  should  go 
to  get  suitable  lodgings.  Possible  difficulties  with 
his  luggage,  possible  annoyances  of  the  search 
loomed  gigantic.  He  felt  greatly  irritated  at  these 
minor  difficulties.  He  wondered  if  Ethel  also  was 
packing.  What  particularly  would  she  do?  He 
listened  but  he  could  hear  nothing.  She  was  very 
still.  She  was  really  very  still !  What  could  she 
be  doing?  He  forgot  the  bothers  of  the  morrow 
in  this  new  interest.  Presently  he  rose  very  softly 
nd  listened.  Then  he  sat  down  again  impatiently. 
He  tried  to  dismiss  his  curiosity  about  the  silence 
by  recapitulating  the  story  of  his  wrongs. 

He  had  some  difficulty  in  fixing  his  mind  upon 
this  theme,  but  presently  his  memories  were  flowing 
freely.     Only  it  was  not  wrongs  now  that  he  could 


THORNS  AND  ROSE  PETALS        291 

recall.  He  was  pestered  by  an  absurd  idea  that  he 
had  again  behaved  unjustly  to  Ethel,  that  he  had 
been  headlong  and  malignant.  He  made  strenuous 
efforts  to  recover  his  first  heat  of  jealousy — in  vain. 
Her  remark  that  she  had  been  as  loyal  as  he,  became 
an  obstinate  headline  in  his  mind.  Something 
arose  within  him  that  insisted  upon  Ethel's  possible 
fate  if  he  should  leave  her.  What  particularly 
would  she  do  ?  He  knew  how  much  her  character 
leant  upon  his.  Good  Heavens !  What  might  she 
not  do  ? 

By  an  effort  he  succeeded  in  fixing  his  mind  on 
Baynes.  That  helped  him  back  to  the  harsher  foot- 
ing. However  hard  things  might  be  for  her  she 
deserved  them.     She  deserved  them  ! 

Yet  presently  he  slipped  again,  slipped  back  to 
the  remorse  and  regrets  of  the  morning  time.  He 
clutched  at  Baynes  as  a  drowning  man  clutches  at 
a  rope,  and  recovered  himself.  For  a  time  he  medi- 
tated on  Baynes.  He  had  never  seen  the  poet,  so 
his  imagination  had  scope.  It  appeared  to  him  as 
an  exasperating  obstacle  to  a  tragic  avenging  of  his 
honour  that  Baynes  was  a  mere  boy — possibly  even 
younger  than  himself. 

The  question,  "  What  will  become  of  Ethel  ?  " 
rose  to  the  surface  again.  He  struggled  against  its 
possibilities.  No!  That  was  not  it !  That  was  her 
affair. 


292         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM  i 

He  felt  inexorably  kept  to  the  path  he  had 
chosen,  for  all  the  waning  of  his  rage.  He  had  put 
his  hand  to  the  plough.  "  If  you  condone  this,"  he 
told  himself,  "  you  might  condone  anything.  There 
are  things  one  must  not  stand."  He  tried  to  keep 
to  that  point  of  view, — assuming  for  the  most  part 
out  of  his  imagination  what  it  was  he  was  not 
standing.  A  dim  sense  came  to  him  of  how  much 
he  was  assuming.  At  any  rate  she  must  have 
flirted!  .  .  .  He  resisted  this  reviving  perception 
of  justice  as  though  it  was  some  unspeakably  dis- 
graceful craving.  He  tried  to  imagine  her  with 
Baynes. 

He  determined  he  would  go  to  sleep. 

But  his  was  a  waking  weariness.  He  tried  count- 
ing. He  tried  to  distract  his  thoughts  from  her  by 
going  over  the  atomic  weights  of  the  elements.  .  .  . 

He  shivered,  and  realised  that  he  was  cold  and 
sitting  cramped  on  an  uncomfortable  horsehair 
chair.  He  had  dozed.  He  glanced  for  the  yellow 
line  between  the  folding  doors.  It  was  still  there 
but  it  seemed  to  quiver.  He  judged  the  candle 
must  be  flaring.  He  wondered  why  everything  was 
so  still. 

Now  why  should  he  suddenly  feel  afraid. 

He  sat  for  a  long  time  trying  to  hear  some  move- 
ment, his  head  craning  forward  in  the  darkness.  .  .  . 

A  grotesque  idea  came  into  his  head  that  all  that 


THORNS  AND  ROSE  PETALS        293 

had  happened  a  very  long  time  ago.  He  dismissed 
that.  He  contested  an  unreasonable  persuasion  that 
some  irrevocable  thing  had  passed.  But  why  was 
everything  so  still  ? 

He  was  invaded  by  a  prevision  of  unendurable 
calamity. 

Presently  he  rose  and  crept  very  slowly  and  with 
infinite  precautions  against  noise,  towards  the  fold- 
ing doors.  He  stood  listening  with  his  ear  near  the 
yellow  chink. 

He  could  hear  nothing,  not  even  the  measured 
breathing  of  a  sleeper. 

He  perceived  that  the  doors  were  not  shut  but 
slightly  ajar.  He  pushed  against  the  inner  one 
very  gently  and  opened  it  silently.  Still  there  was 
no  sound  of  Ethel.  He  opened  the  door  still  wider 
and  peered  into  the  room.  The  candle  had  burnt 
down  and  was  flaring  in  its  socket.  Ethel  was  lying 
half  undressed  upon  the  bed,  and  in  her  hand  and 
close  to  her  face  was  a  rose. 

He  stood  watching  her,  fearing  to  move.  He 
listened  hard  and  his  face  was  very  white.  Even 
now  he  could  not  hear  her  breathing. 

After  all,  it  was  probably  all  right.  She  was  just 
asleep.  He  would  slip  back  before  she  woke.  If 
she  found  him — 

He  looked  at  her  again.  There  was  something  in 
her  face — 


294         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM  \ 

He  came  nearer,  no  longer  heeding  the  sounds  he 
made.  He  bent  over  her.  Even  now  she  did  not 
seem  to  breathe. 

He  saw  that  her  eyelashes  were  still  wet,  the 
pillow  by  her  cheek  was  wet.  Her  white,  tear- 
stained  face  hurt  him.  .  .  . 

She  was  intolerably  pitiful  to  him.  He  forgot 
everything  but  that  and  how  he  had  wounded 
her  that  day.  And  then  she  stirred  and  mur- 
mured indistinctly  a  foolish  name  she  had  given 
him. 

He  forgot  that  they  were  going  to  part  for  ever. 
He  felt  nothing  but  a  great  joy  that  she  could  stir 
and  speak.  His  jealousy  flashed  out  of  being.  He 
dropped  upon  his  knees. 

"  Dear,"  he  whispered.  "  Is  it  all  right  ?  I  .  .  . 
I  could  not  hear  you  breathing.  I  could  not  hear 
you  breathing." 

She  started  and  was  awake. 

"  I  was  in  the  other  room,"  said  Lewisham  in  a 
voice  full  of  emotion.  "  Everything  was  so  quiet. 
I  was  afraid — I  did  not  know  what  had  happened. 
Dear — Ethel  dear.     Is  it  all  right  ?  " 

She  sat  up  quickly  and  scrutinised  his  face.  "  Oh  ! 
let  me  tell  you,"  she  wailed.  "  Do  let  me  tell  you. 
It's  nothing.  It's  nothing.  You  wouldn't  hear  me. 
You  wouldn't  hear  me.  It  wasn't  fair — before  you 
had  heard  me.  ..." 


THORNS  AND  ROSE  PETALS         295 

His  arms  tightened  about  her.  "  Dear,"  he  said, 
"  I  knew  it  was  nothing.     I  knew.     I  knew." 

She  spoke  in  sobbing  sentences.  "  It  was  so 
simple.  Mr.  Baynes  .  .  .  something  in  his  manner 
...  I  knew  he  might  be  silly  .  .  .  Only  I  did  so 
want  to  help  you."  She  paused.  Just  for  one 
instant  she  saw  one  untellable  indiscretion  as  it  were 
in  a  lightning  flash.  A  chance  meeting  it  was,  a 
"  silly  "  thing  or  so  said,  a  panic,  retreat.  She  would 
have  told  it — had  she  known  how.  But  she  could 
not  do  it.  She  hesitated.  She  abolished  it — untold. 
She  went  on  :  "  And  then,  I  thought  he  had  sent 
the  roses  and  I  was  frightened.  ...  I  was  fright- 
ened." 

"  Dear  one,"  said  Lewisham.  "  Dear  one !  I 
have  been  cruel  to  you.  I  have  been  unjust.  I 
understand.  I  do  understand.  Forgive  me.  Dear, 
est — forgive  me." 

"  I  did  so  want  to  do  something  for  you.  It  was 
all  I  could  do — that  little  money.  And  then  you 
were  angry.  I  thought  you  didn't  love  me  any 
more  because  I  did  not  understand  your  work.  .  .  . 
And  that  Miss  Hey  dinger — Oh  !  it  was  hard." 

"  Dear  one,"  said  Lewisham,  "  I  do  not  care  your 
little  finger  for  Miss  Heydinger." 

"  I  know  how  I  hamper  you.  But  if  you  will 
help  me.  Oh  !  I  would  work,  I  would  study.  I 
would  do  all  I  could  to  understand." 


296        LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Dear,"  whispered  Lewisham.     "  Dear" 

"  And  to  have  ker— " 

"  Dear,"  he  vowed,  "  I  have  been  a  brute.  I  will 
end  all  that.     I  will  end  all  that." 

He  took  her  suddenly  into  his  arms  and  kissed 
her. 

"  Oh,  I  know  I'm  stupid,"  she  said. 

"  You're  not.  It's  I  have  been  stupid.  I  have 
been  unkind,  unreasonable.  All  to-day —  .  .  .  I've 
been  thinking  about  it.  Dear !  I  don't  care  for 
anything — .  It's  you.  If  I  have  you  nothing  else 
matters.  .  .  .  Only  I  get  hurried  and  cross.  It's 
the  work  and  being  poor.  Dear  one,  we  must 
hold  to  each  other.  All  to-day. —  It's  been  dread- 
ful. .  ." 

He  stopped.     They  sat  clinging  to  one  another. 

"  I  do  love  you,"  she  said  presently  with  her  arms 
about  him.     "  Oh  !  I  do — do — love  you." 

He  drew  her  closer  to  him. 

He  kissed  her  neck.     She  pressed  him  to  her. 

Their  lips  met. 

The  expiring  candle  streamed  up  into  a  tall  flame, 
flickered,  and  was  suddenly  extinguished.  The  air 
was  heavy  with  the  scent  of  roses. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

A   WITHDRAWAL 

On  Tuesday  Lewisham  returned  from  Vigours' 
at  five — at  half-past  six  he  would  go  on  to  his 
science  class  at  Walham  Green — and  discovered 
Mrs.  Chaffery  and  Ethel  in  tears.  He  was  fagged 
and  rather  anxious  for  some  tea,  but  the  news  they 
had  for  him  drove  tea  out  of  his  head  altogether. 

"  He's  gone,"  said  Ethel. 

"  Who's  gone  ?     What !     Not  Chaffery  ?  " 

Mrs.  Chaffery,  with  a  keen  eye  to  Lewisham's 
behaviour,  nodded  tearfully  over  an  experienced 
handkerchief. 

Lewisham  grasped  the  essentials  of  the  situation 
forthwith,  and  trembled  on  the  brink  of  an  exple- 
tive.    Ethel  handed  him  a  letter. 

For  a  moment   Lewisham   held   this  in   his   hand 

asking  questions.     Mrs.  Chaffery  had  conic  upon  it 

in  the  case  of  her  eight-day  clock  when   the  time  to 

wind  it  came  round.     Chaffery,  it  seemed,  had  not 

been  home  since   Saturday   night.     The  letter  was 

an  open  one  addressed  to  Lewisham,  a  long  ram- 

297 


298        LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

bling  would-be  clever  letter,  oddly  inferior  in  style  to 
Chaffery's  conversation.  It  had  been  written  some 
hours  before  Chaffery's  last  visit ;  his  talk  then  had 
been  perhaps  a  sort  of  codicil. 

"  The  inordinate  stupidity  of  that  man  Lagune 
is  driving  me  out  of  the  country,"  Lewisham  saw. 
"  It  has  been  at  last  a  definite  stumbling  block — 
even  a  legal  stumbling  block,  I  fear.  I  am  off.  I 
skedaddle.  I  break  ties.  I  shall  miss  our  long  re- 
freshing chats — you  had  found  me  out  and  I  could 
open  my  mind.  I  am  sorry  to  part  from  Ethel  also, 
but  thank  Heaven  she  has  you  to  look  to  !  And  in- 
deed they  both  have  you  to  look  to,  though  the 
*  both  '  may  be  a  new  light  to  you." 

Lewisham  growled,  went  from  page  i  to  page  3 — 
conscious  of  their  both  looking  to  him  now — even 
intensely — and  discovered  Chaffery  in  a  practical 
vein. 

"  There  is  but  little  light  and  portable  property 
in  that  house  in  Clapham  that  has  escaped  my 
lamentable  improvidence,  but  there  are  one  or  two 
things ;  the  iron-bound  chest,  the  bureau  with  a 
broken  hinge,  and  the  large  air  pump,  distinctly 
pawnable  if  only  you  can  contrive  to  get  them  to  a 
pawnshop.  You  have  more  Will  power  than  I — I 
never  could  get  the  confounded  things  downstairs. 
That  iron-bound  box  was  originally  mine,  before  I 
married  your  mother-in-law,  so  that  I  am  not  alto- 


A  WITHDRAWAL  299 

gether  regardless  of  your  welfare  and  the  necessity 
of  giving  some  equivalent.  Don't  judge  me  too 
harshly." 

Lewisham  turned  over  sharply  without  finishing 
that  page. 

"  My  life  at  Clapham,"  continued  the  letter,  "  has 
irked  me  for  some  time,  and  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
the  spectacle  of  your  vigorous  young  happiness — 
you  are  having  a  very  good  time,  you  know,  fight- 
ing the  world — reminded  me  of  the  passing  years. 
To  be  frank  in  self-criticism,  there  is  more  than  a 
touch  of  the  New  Woman  about  me,  and  I  feel  I 
have  still  to  live  my  own  life.  What  a  beautiful 
phrase  that  is — to  live  one's  own  life  ! — redolent  of 
honest  scorn  for  moral  plagiarism.  No  Imitatio 
Christi  in  that.  ...    I  long  to  see  more  of  men  and 

cities Ibegin  late,  I   know,  to  live   my  own 

life,  bald  as  I  am  and  grey-whiskered  ;  but  better 
late  than  never.  Why  should  the  educated  girl  have 
the  monopoly  of  the  game  ?  And  after  all,  the 
whiskers  will  dye.  .  .  . 

"  There  are  things — I  touch  upon  them  lightly — 
that  will  presently  astonish  Lagune."  Lewisham 
became  more  attentive.  "  I  marvel  at  that  man, 
grubbing  hungry  for  marvels  amidst  the  almost  in- 
credibly marvellous.  What  can  be  the  nature  of  a 
man  who  gapes  after  Poltergeists  with  the  miracle 
of  his  own  silly  existence  (inconsequent,  reasonless, 


300         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

unfathomably  weird)  nearer  to  him  than  breathing 
and  closer  than  hands  and  feet.  What  is  he  for,  that 
he  should  wonder  at  Poltergeists?  I  am  astonished 
these  by  no  means  flimsy  psychic  phenomena  do  not 
turn  upon  their  investigators,  and  that  a  Research 
Society  of  eminent  illusions  and  hallucinations  does 
not  pursue  Lagune  with  sceptical  inquiries.  Take 
his  house — expose  the  alleged  man  of  Chelsea ! 
A  priori  they  might  argue  that  a  thing  so  vain,  so 
unmeaning,  so  strongly  beset  by  cackle,  could  only 
be  the  diseased  imagining  of  some  hysterical  phan- 
tom. Do  you  believe  that  such  a  thing  as  Lagune 
exists  ?  I  must  own  to  the  gravest  doubts.  But 
happily  his  banker  is  of  a  more  credulous  type  than 
I.  .  .  .  Of  all  that  Lagune  will  tell  you  soon 
enough." 

Lewisham  read  no  more.  "  I  suppose  he  thought 
himself  clever  when  he  wrote  that  rot,"  said  Lewis- 
ham  bitterly,  throwing  the  sheets  forcibly  athwart 
the  table.  "  The  simple  fact  is,  he's  stolen,  or  forged, 
or  something — and  bolted." 

There  was  a  pause.  "  What  will  become  of 
Mother?"  said  Ethel. 

Lewisham  looked  at  Mother  and  thought  for  a 
moment.     Then  he  glanced  at  Ethel. 

"  We're  all  in  the  same  boat,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  I  don't  want  to  give  any  trouble  to  a  single 
human  being,"  said  Mrs.  ChafTery. 


A  WITHDRAWAL  301 

"  I  think  you  might  get  a  man  his  tea,  Ethel," 
said  Lewisham  sitting  down  suddenly  ;  "  anyhow." 
He  drummed  on  the  table  with  his  fingers.  "  I  have 
to  get  to  Walham  Green  by  a  quarter  to  seven." 

"  We're  all  in  the  same  boat,"  he  repeated  after 
an  interval,  and  continued  drumming.  He  was 
.chiefly  occupied  by  the  curious  fact  that  they  were 
all  in  the  same  boat.  What  an  extraordinary  fac- 
ulty he  had  for  acquiring  responsibility  !  He  looked 
up  suddenly  and  caught  Mrs.  Chaffery's  tearful  eye 
directed  to  Ethel  and  full  of  distressful  interrogation, 
and  his  perplexity  was  suddenly  changed  to  pity. 
"  It's  all  right,  Mother,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not  going 
to  be  unreasonable.     I'll  stand  by  you." 

"Ah!"  said  Mrs.  Chaffery.  "As  if  I  didn't 
know !  "  and  Ethel  came  and  kissed  him. 

He  seemed  in  imminent  danger  of  universal  em- 
braces. 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  me  have  my  tea,"  he  said.  And 
while  he  had  his  tea  he  asked  Mrs.  Chaffery  ques- 
tions and  tried  to  get  the  new  situation   into  focus. 

But  even  at  ten  o'clock  when  he  was  returning 
hot  and  jaded  from  Walham  Green  he  was  still  try- 
ing to  get  the  situation  into  focus.  There  were 
vague  ends  and  blank  walls  of  interrogation  in  the 
matter,  that  perplexed  him. 

He  knew  that  his  supper  would  be  only  the  pre- 
lude to  an  interminable  "  talking  over,"  and   indeed 


302         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM  . 

he  did  not  get  to  bed  until  nearly  two.  By  that 
time  a  course  of  action  was  already  agreed  upon. 
Mrs.  Chaffery  was  tied  to  the  house  in  Clapham  by 
a  long  lease  and  thither  they  must  go.  The  ground 
floor  and  first  floor  were  let  unfurnished,  and  the 
rent  of  these  practically  paid  the  rent  of  the  house. 
The  Chafferys  occupied  basement  and  second  floor. 
There  was  a  bedroom  on  the  second  floor  formerly 
let  to  the  first  floor  tenants,  that  he  and  Ethel 
could  occupy,  and  in  this  an  old  toilet  table  could 
be  put  for  such  studies  as  were  to  be  prosecuted  at 
home.  Ethel  could  have  her  typewriter  in  the 
subterranean  breakfast-room.  Mrs.  Chaffery  and 
Ethel  must  do  the  catering  and  the  bulk  of  the 
housework,  and  as  soon  as  possible,  since  letting 
lodgings  would  not  square  with  Lewisham's  profes- 
sional pride,  they  must  get  rid  of  the  lease  that 
bound  them  and  take  some  smaller  and  more  subur- 
ban residence.  If  they  did  that  without  leaving 
any  address  it  might  save  their  feelings  from  any 
return  of  the  prodigal  Chaffery. 

Mrs.  Chaffery's  frequent  and  pathetic  acknowledg- 
ments of  Lewisham's  goodness  only  partly  relieved 
his  disposition  to  a  philosophical  bitterness.  And 
the  practical  issues  were  complicated  by  excursions 
upon  the  subject  of  Chaffery,  what  he  might  have 
done,  and  where  he  might  have  gone,  and  whether 
by  any  chance  he  might  not  return. 


A  WITHDRAWAL  303 

When  at  last  Mrs.  Chaffery,  after  a  violent  and 
tearful  kissing  and  blessing  of  them  both — they 
were  "  good  dear  children,"  she  said — had  departed, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewisham  returned  into  their  sitting- 
room.  Mrs.  Lewisham's  little  face  was  enthusiastic. 
"  You're  a  Trump,"  she  said,  extending  the  willing 
arms  that  were  his  reward.  "  I  know,"  she  said,  "  I 
know,  and  all  to-night  I  have  been  loving  you. 
Dear!      Dear!      Dear.   .   .    ." 

The  next  day  Lewisham  was  too  full  of  engage- 
ments to  communicate  with  Lagune,  but  the  follow- 
ing morning  he  called  and  found  the  psychic  inves- 
tigator busy  with  the  proofs  of  Hesperus.  He  wel- 
comed the  young  man  cordially  nevertheless,  con- 
ceiving him  charged  with  the  questions  that  had 
been  promised  long  ago — it  was  evident  he  knew 
nothing  of  Lewisham's  marriage.  Lewisham  stated 
his  case  with  some  bluntness. 

"Hewas  last  here  on  Saturday,"  said  Lagune. 
li  You  have  always  been  inclined  to  suspicion  about 
him.      Have  you  any  grounds?" 

"  You'd  better  read  this,"  said  Lewisham,  repress- 
ing a  grim  smile,  and  he  handed  Lagune  Chaffery 's 
letter. 

He  glanced  at  the  little  man  ever  and  again  to 
see  if  he  had  come  to  the  personal  portion,  and  for 
the  rest  of  the  time  occupied  himself  with  an  envi- 
ous inventory   of   the   writing   appointments  about 


304  LOVE  AND  MR.   LEWISHAM 

him.  No  doubt  the  boy  with  the  big  ears  had  had 
the  same  sort  of  thing  .   .   . 

When  Lagune  came  to  the  question  of  his  real 
identity  he  blew  out  his  cheeks  in  the  most  aston- 
ishing way  but  made  no  other  sign. 

"Dear,  dear!"  he  said  at  last.      "  My  bankers!" 

He  looked  at  Lewisham  with  the  exaggerated 
mildness  of  his  spectacled  eye.  "What  do  you 
think  it  means?  "  he  asked.  "  Has  he  gone  mad? 
We  have  been  conducting  some  experiments  involv- 
ing— considerable  mental  strain.  He  and  I  and  a 
lady.      Hypnotic — " 

1 '  I  should  look  at  my  cheque-book  if  I  were  you. " 

Lagune  produced  some  keys  and  got  out  his 
cheque-book.  He  turned  over  the  counterfoils. 
"There's  nothing  wrong  here,"  he  said,  and  handed 
the  book  to  Lewisham. 

"  Um,"  said  Lewisham.  "I  suppose  this —  I 
say,  is  this  right  ?  " 

He  handed  back  the  book  to  Lagune,  open  at  the 
blank  counterfoil  of  a  cheque  that  had  been  re- 
moved. Lagune  stared  and  passed  his  hand  over 
his  forehead  in  a  confused  way.  "  I  can't  see  this," 
he  said. 

Lewisham  had  never  heard  of  post  hypnotic  sug- 
gestion and  he  stood  incredulous.  "  You  can't  see 
that?"  he  said.      "  What  nonsense!" 

"  I  can't  see  it,"  repeated  Lagune. 


A  WITHDRAWAL  305 

For  some  seconds  Lewisham  could  not  get  away 
from  stupid  repetitions  of  his  inquiry.  Then  he 
hit  upon  a  collateral  proof.  "  But  look  here!  Can 
you  see  this  counterfoil  ?  " 

"  Plainly,"  said  Lagune. 

"  Can  you  read  the  number  ?  " 

4 *  Five  thousand  two  hundred  and  seventy-nine." 

"Well,  and  this?" 

"  Five  thousand  two  hundred  and  eighty-one." 

"Well — where's  five  thousand  two  hundred  and 
eighty  ?" 

Lagune  began  to  look  uncomfortable.  "  Surely," 
he  said,  "he  has  not —  Will  you  read  it  out — the 
cheque,  the  counterfoil  I  mean,  that  I  am  unable 
to  see." 

"  It's  blank,"  said  Lewisham  with  an  irresistible 
grin. 

"  Surely,"  said  Lagune,  and  the  discomfort  of  his 
expression  deepened.  "Do  you  mind  if  I  call  in  a 
servant  to  confirm —  ?  " 

Lewisham  did  not  mind,  and  the  same  girl  who 
had  admitted  him  to  the  seance  appeared.  When 
she  had  given  her  evidence  she  went  again.  As  she 
left  the  room  by  the  door  behind  Lagune  her  c  \ 
met  Lewisham's,  and  she  Lifted  her  eyebrows,  de- 
pressed her  mouth  and  glanced  at  Lagune  with  a 
meaning  expression. 

"I'm  afraid,"  said   Lagune,  "that  I   have  been 
20 


306  LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

shabbily  treated.  Mr.  Chaffery  is  a  man  of  indis- 
putable powers — indisputable  powers ;  but  I  am 
afraid — I  am  very  much  afraid  he  has  abused  the 
conditions  of  the  experiment.  All  this — and  his 
insults — touch  me  rather  nearly." 

He  paused.  Lewisham  rose.  "Do  you  mind  if 
you  come  again?"  asked  Lagune  with  gentle  polite- 
ness. 

Lewisham  was  surprised  to  find  himself  sorry. 

"  He  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  gifts,"  said  La- 
gune. "I  had  come  to  rely  upon  him.  .  .  .  My 
cash  balance  has  been  rather  heavy  lately.  How 
he  came  to  know  of  that  I  am  unable  to  say. 
Without  supposing,  that  is,  that  he  had  very  re- 
markable gifts." 

When  Lewisham  saw  Lagune  again  he  learnt  the 
particulars  of  Chaffery's  misdeed  and  the  additional 
fact  that  the  ' '  lady  "  had  also  disappeared.  ' '  That's 
a  good  job,"  he  remarked  selfishly.  "There's  no 
chance  of  his  coming  back."  He  spent  a  moment 
trying  to  imagine  the  "lady";  he  realised  more 
vividly  than  he  had  ever  done  before  the  narrow 
range  of  his  experience,  the  bounds  of  his  imagina- 
tion. These  people  also — with  grey  hair  and  trun- 
cated honour — had  their  emotions !  Even  it  may 
be  glowing!  He  came  back  to  facts.  Chaffery  had 
induced  Lagune  when  hypnotised  to  sign  a  blank 
cheque  as  an  "autograph".      "The  strange  thing 


A  WITHDRAWAL  307 

is,"  explained  Lagune,  "  it's  doubtful  if  he's  legally 
accountable.  The  law  is  so  peculiar  about  hypno- 
tism, and  I  certainly  signed  the  cheque,  you 
know." 

The  little  man,  in  spite  of  his  losses,  was  now 
almost  cheerful  again  on  account  of  a  curious  side 
issue.  "You  may  say  it  is  coincidence,"  he  said, 
"you  may  call  it  a  fluke,  but  I  prefer  to  look  for 
some  other  interpretation.  Consider  this.  The 
amount  of  my  balance  is  a  secret  between  me  and 
my  bankers.  He  never  had  it  from  me,  for  I  did 
not  know  it — I  hadn't  looked  at  my  pass-book  for 
months.  But  he  drew  it  all  in  one  cheque,  within 
seventeen  and  sixpence  of  the  total.  And  the  total 
was  over  five  hundred  pounds!" 

He  seemed  quite  bright  again  as  he  culminated. 

11  Within  seventeen  and  sixpence,"  he  said.  "  Now 
how  do  you  account  for  that,  eh?  Give  me  a 
materialistic  explanation  that  will  explain  away  all 
that.     You  can't.     Neither  can  I." 

"  I  think  I  can,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  Well— what  is  it  ?  " 

Lewisham  nodded  towards  a  little  drawer  of  the 
bureau.  "  Don't  you  think — perhaps  " — a  little  rip- 
ple of  laughter  passed  across  his  mind — li  he  had  a 
skeleton  key  ?  " 

Lagune's  face  lingered  amusingly  in  Lewisham's 
mind  as  he  returned  to  Clapham.     But  after  a  time 


308         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

that  amusement  passed  away.  He  declined  upon 
the  extraordinary  fact  that  Chaffery  was  his  father- 
in-law,  Mrs.  Chaffery  his  mother-in-law,  that  these 
two  and  Ethel  constituted  his  family,  his  clan,  and 
that  grimy  graceless  house  up  the  Clapham  hill- 
side was  to  be  his  home.  Home  !  His  connexion 
with  these  things  as  a  point  of  worldly  departure 
was  as  inexorable  now  as  though  he  had  been  born 
to  it.  And  a  year  ago,  except  for  a  fading  reminis- 
cence of  Ethel,  none  of  these  people  had  existed 
for  him.  The  ways  of  Destiny  !  The  happenings 
of  the  last  few  months,  foreshortened  in  perspective, 
seemed  to  have  almost  a  pantomimic  rapidity.  The 
thing  took  him  suddenly  as  being  laughable ;  and 
he  laughed. 

His  laugh  marked  an  epoch.  Never  before  had 
Lewisham  laughed  at  any  fix  in  which  he  had 
found  himself.  The  enormous  seriousness  of  ado- 
lescence was  coming  to  an  end  ;  the  days  of  his 
growing  were  numbered.  It  was  a  laugh  of  infinite 
admissions. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

IN  BATTERSEA   PARK 

Now  although  Lewisham  had  promised  to  bring 
things  to  a  conclusion  with  Miss  Heydinger,  he  did 
nothing  in  the  matter  for  five  weeks,  he  merely  left 
that  crucial  letter  of  hers  unanswered.  In  that 
time  their  removal  from  Madam  Gadow's  into  the 
gaunt  house  at  Clapham  was  accomplished — not 
without  polyglot  controversy — and  the  young 
couple  settled  themselves  into  the  little  room  on 
the  second  floor  even  as  they  had  arranged.  And 
there  it  was  that  suddenly  the  world  was  changed 
- — was  astonishingly  transfigured — by  a  whisper. 

It  was  a  whisper  between  sobs  and   tears,  with 

Ethel's  arms  about  him  and   Ethel's  hair  streaming 

down  so  that  it  hid  her  face  from  him.     And  he 

too  had  whispered,  dismayed  perhaps  a   little,  and 

yet  feeling  a  strange  pride,  a  strange  novel  emotion, 

feeling  altogether  different   from  the  things  he  had 

fancied  he  might   feel   when  this  thing  that  he  had 

dreaded    should    come.       Suddenly    he    perceived 

finality,  the  advent  of  the  solution,  the  rcconcilia- 

309 


310         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

tion  of  the  conflict  that  had  been  waged  so  long. 
Hesitations  were  at  an  end  ; — he  took  his  line. 

Next  day  he  wrote  a  note  and  two  mornings  later 
he  started  for  his  mathematical  duffers  an  hour  be- 
fore  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  and  instead  of 
going  directly  to  Vigours',  went  over  the  bridge  to 
Battersea  Park.  There  waiting  for  him  by  a  seat 
where  once  they  had  met  before,  he  found  Miss 
Heydinger  pacing.  They  walked  up  and  down 
side  by  side,  speaking  for  a  little  while  about  indif- 
ferent topics,  and  then  they  came  upon  a  pause  .  .  . 

"  You  have  something  to  tell  me  ? "  said  Miss 
Heydinger  abruptly. 

Lewisham  changed  colour  a  little.  "  Oh  yes," 
he  said ;  "  the  fact  is — ."  He  affected  ease.  "  Did 
I  ever  tell  you  I  was  married  ?  " 

"Married?" 

"Yes." 

"  Married ! " 

"Yes,"  a  little  testily. 

For  a  moment  neither  spoke.  Lewisham  stood 
without  dignity  staring  at  the  dahlias  of  the  Lon- 
don County  Council,  and  Miss  Heydinger  stood 
regarding  him. 

11  And  that  is  what  you  have  to  tell  me?" 

"  Mr.  Lewisham  turned  and  met  her  eyes. 
"  Yes ! "  he  said.  "  That  is  what  I  have  to  tell 
you." 


IN  BATTERSEA  PARK  311 

Pause.  "  Do  you  mind  if  I  sit  down,"  asked  Miss 
Heydinger  in  an  indifferent  tone. 

"  There  is  a  seat  yonder,"  said  Lewisham,  "  under 
the  tree." 

They  walked  to  the  seat  in  silence. 

"  Now,"  said  Miss  Heydinger,  quietly.  "  Tell  me 
whom  you  have  married." 

Lewisham  answered  sketchily.  She  asked  him 
another  question  and  another.  He  felt  stupid  and 
answered  with  a  halting  truthfulness. 

"  I  might  have  known,"  she  said,  "  I  might  have 
known.  Only  I  would  not  know.  Tell  me  some 
more.     Tell  me  about  her." 

Lewisham  did.  The  whole  thing  was  abominably 
disagreeable  to  him,  but  it  had  to  be  done,  he  had 
promised  Ethel  it  should  be  done.  Presently  Miss 
Heydinger  knew  the  main  outline  of  his  story, 
knew  all  his  story  except  the  emotion  that  made  it 
credible.  "  And  you  were  married — before  the 
second  examination  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"Yes,"  said  Lewisham. 

"  But  why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  this  before  ?  " 
asked  Miss  Heydinger. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Lewisham.  "  I  wanted  to — 
that  day,  in  Kensington  Gardens.  But  I  didn't.  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  have  done  so." 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  have  done  so." 

"Yes,   I   suppose    I    ought  .  .  .      But    I    didn't. 


312         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

Somehow — it  has  been  hard.  I  didn't  know  what 
you  would  say.  The  thing  seemed  so  rash,  you 
know,  and  all  that." 

He  paused  blankly. 

"  I  suppose  you  had  to  do  it,"  said  Miss  Hey- 
dinger  presently,  with  her  eyes  on  his  profile. 

Lewisham  began  the  second  and  more  difficult 
part  of  his  explanation.  "  There's  been  a  difficulty," 
he  said,  "all  the  way  along — I  mean — about  you, 
that  is.  It's  a  little  difficult — .  The  fact  is,  my 
wife,  you  know — .  She  looks  at  things  differently 
from  what  we  do." 

-We?" 

"  Yes — it's  odd,  of  course.  But  she  has  seen  your 
letters—" 

"You  didn't  show  her—?" 

"  No.  But,  I  mean,  she  knows  you  write  to  me,  and 
she  knows  you  write  about  Socialism  and  Literature 
and — things  we  have  in  common — things  she  hasn't." 

"You  mean  to  say  she  doesn't  understand  these 
things?" 

"  She's  not  thought  about  them.  I  suppose  there's 
a  sort  of  difference  in  education — " 

"  And  she  objects —  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham,  lying  promptly.  "  She 
doesn't  object  ..." 

"Well?"  said  Miss  Heydinger,  and  her  face  was 
white. 


IN  BATTERSEA  PARK  313 

"  She  feels  that — .  She  feels — she  does  not  say, 
of  course,  but  I  know  she  feels  that  it  is  something 
she  ought  to  share.  I  know — how  she  cares  for  me. 
And  it  shames  her — it  reminds  her — .  Don't  you 
see  how  it  hurts  her?  " 

"  Yes.  I  see.  So  that  even  that  little—."  Miss 
Heydinger's  breath  seemed  to  catch  and  she  was 
abruptly  silent. 

She  spoke  at  last  with  an  effort.  "  That  it  hurts 
me"  she  said,  and  grimaced  and  stopped  again. 

"  No,"  said  Lewisham,  "  that  is  not  it."  He  hesi- 
tated. 

"  I  knew  this  would  hurt  you." 

"You  love  her.     You  can  sacrifice — " 

"  No.  It  is  not  that.  But  there  is  a  difference. 
Hurting  her — she  would  not  understand.  But  you 
■ — somehow  it  seems  a  natural  thing  for  me  to  come 
to  you.  I  seem  to  look  to  you — .  For  her  I  am 
always  making  allowances — " 

"  You  love  her." 

14  I  wonder  if  it  is  that  makes  the  difference. 
Things  are  so  complex.  Love  means  anything — 
or  nothing.  I  know  you  better  than  I  do  her,  you 
know  me  better  than  she  will  ever  do.  I  could  tell 
you  things  I  could  not  tell  her.  I  could  put  all 
myself  before  you — almost — and  know  you  would 
understand — .     Only — " 

"You  love  her." 


314         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

"  Yes,"  said  Lewisham  lamely  and  pulling  at  his 
moustache.     "  I  suppose  .  .  .  that  must  be  it." 

For  a  space  neither  spoke.  Then  Miss  Heydinger 
said  "  Oh!"  with  extraordinary  emphasis. 

"  To  think  of  this  end  to  it  all !  That  all  your 
promise  .  .  .  What  is  it  she  gives  that  I  could  not 
have  given  ? 

"  Even  now !  Why  should  I  give  up  that  much 
of  you  that  is  mine?  If  she  could  take  it —  But 
she  cannot  take  it.  If  I  let  you  go — you  will  do 
nothing.  All  this  ambition,  all  these  interests  will 
dwindle  and  die,  and  she  will  not  mind.  She  will 
not  understand.  She  will  think  that  she  still  has 
you.  Why  should  she  covet  what  she  cannot  pos- 
sess? Why  should  she  be  given  the  thing  that  is 
mine — to  throw  aside  ?  " 

She  did  not  look  at  Lewisham,  but  before  her, 
her  face  a  white  misery. 

"  In  a  way — I  had  come  to  think  of  you  as  some- 
thing belonging  to  me  ...  I  shall — still." 

"  There  is  one  thing,"  said  Lewisham  after  a 
pause  ;  "  it  is  a  thing  that  has  come  to  me  once  or 
twice  lately.  Don't  you  think  that  perhaps  you 
over-estimate  the  things  I  might  have  done?  I 
know  we've  talked  of  great  things  to  do.  But  I've 
been  struggling  for  half  a  year  and  more  to  get  the 
sort  of  living  almost  anyone  seems  able  to  get.  It 
has  taken  me  all  my  time.     One  can't  help  thinking 


IN  BATTERSEA  PARK  315 

after  that,  perhaps  the  world  is    a    stiffer  sort  of 
affair  .  .  ." 

"  No,"  she  said  decisively.  "  You  could  have  done 
great  things. 

"  Even  now,"  she  said,  "  you  may  do  great 
things — .  If  only  I  might  see  you  sometimes,  write 
to  you  sometimes — .  You  are  so  capable  and — weak. 
You  must  have  somebody — .  That  is  your  weakness. 
You  fail  in  your  belief.  You  must  have  support 
and  belief — unstinted  support  and  belief.  Why 
could  I  not  be  that  to  you  ?  It  is  all  I  want  to  be. 
At  least — all  I  want  to  be  now.  Why  need  she 
know?  It  robs  her  of  nothing.  I  want  nothing — 
she  has.  But  I  know  of  my  own  strength  too  I 
can  do  nothing.  I  know  that  with  you  ...  It  is 
only  knowing  hurts  her.     Why  should  she  know?  " 

Mr.  Lewisham  looked  at  her  doubtfully.  That 
phantom  greatness  of  his,  it  was  that  lit  her  eyes. 
In  that  instant  at  least  he  had  no  doubts  of  the 
possibility  of  his  Career.  But  he  knew  that  in  some 
way  the  secret  of  his  greatness  and  this  admiration 
went  together.  Conceivably  they  were  one  and 
indivisible.  Why  indeed  need  Ethel  know?  His 
imagination  ran  over  the  things  that  might  be  done, 
the  things  that  might  happen,  and  touched  swiftly 
upon  complication,  confusion,  discovery. 

"The   thing  is,  I   must   simplify  my  life.      I  shall 


316         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

do  nothing  unless  I  simplify  my  life.  Only  people 
who  are  well  off  can  be — complex.  It  is  one  thing 
or  the  other — " 

He  hesitated  and  suddenly  had  a  vision  of  Ethel 
weeping  as  once  he  had  seen  her  weep  with  the 
light  on  the  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  No,"  he  said  almost  brutally.  "  No.  It's  like 
this — .  I  can't  do  anything  underhand.  I  mean — . 
I'm  not  so  amazingly  honest — now.  But  I've  not 
that  sort  of  mind.  She  would  find  me  out.  It 
would  do  no  good  and  she  would  find  me  out.  My 
life's  too  complex.  I  can't  manage  it  and  go 
straight.  I — you've  overrated  me.  And  besides — . 
Things  have  happened.  Something — ."  He  hesi- 
tated and  then  snatched  at  his  resolve.  "  I've  got 
to  simplify — and  that's  the  plain  fact  of  the  case. 
I'm  sorry,  but  it  is  so.'* 

Miss  Heydinger  made  no  answer.  Her  silence 
astonished  him.  For  nearly  twenty  seconds  per- 
haps they  sat  without  speaking.  With  a  quick 
motion  she  stood  up  and  at  once  he  stood  up  be- 
fore her.     Her  face  was  flushed,  her  eyes  downcast. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said  suddenly  in  a  low  tone  and 
held  out  her  hand. 

"  But,"  said  Lewisham  and  stopped.     Miss  Hey 
dinger's  colour  left  her. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  looking  him  suddenly  in 
the  eyes  and  smiling  awry.  "  There  is  no  more  to 
say,  is  there  ?     Good-bye." 


IN  BATTERSEA  PARK.  317 

He  took  her  hand.     M  I  hope  I  didn't—" 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said  impatiently,  and  suddenly 
disengaged  her  hand  and  turned  away  from  him. 
He  made  a  step  after  her. 

"  Miss  Heydinger,"  he  said,  but  she  did  not  stop. 
u  Miss  Heydinger."  He  realised  that  she  did  not 
want  to  answer  him  again.  .  .  . 

He  remained  motionless,  watching  her  retreating 
figure.  An  extraordinary  sense  of  loss  came  into 
his  mind,  a  vague  impulse  to  pursue  her  and  pour 
out  vague  passionate  protestations.  .  .  . 

Not  once  did  she  look  back.  She  was  already 
remote  when  he  began  hurrying  after  her.  Once 
he  was  in  motion  he  quickened  his  pace  and  gained 
upon  her.  He  was  within  thirty  yards  of  her  as  she 
drew  near  the  gates. 

His  pace  slackened.  Suddenly  he  was  afraid  she 
might  look  back.  She  passed  out  of  the  gates,  out 
of  his  sight.  He  stopped,  looking  where  she  had 
disappeared.  He  sighed  and  took  the  pathway  to 
his  left  that  led  back  to  the  bridge  and  Vigours. 

Halfway  across  this  bridge  came  another  crisis  of 
indecision.  He  stopped,  hesitating.  An  imperti- 
nent thought  obtruded.  He  looked  at  his  watch 
and  saw  that  he  must  hurry  if  he  would  catch  the 
train  for  Earl's  Court  and  Vigours.  He  said 
Vigours  might  go  to  the  devil. 

But  in  the  end  he  caught  his  train. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  CROWNING  VICTORY 

That  night  about  seven  Ethel  came  into  their 
room  with  a  waste-paper  basket  she  had  bought  for 
him,  and  found  him  sitting  at  the  little  toilet  table 
at  which  he  was  to  "  write  ".  The  outlook  was,  for 
a  London  outlook,  spacious,  down  a  long  slope  of 
roofs  towards  the  Junction,  a  huge  sky  of  blue  pass- 
ing upward  to  the  darkling  zenith  and  downward 
into  a  hazy  bristling  mystery  of  roofs  and  chimneys, 
from  which  emerged  signal  lights  and  steam  puffs, 
gliding  chains  of  lit  window  carriages  and  the  vague 
vistas  of  streets.  She  showed  him  the  basket  and 
put  it  beside  him,  and  then  her  eye  caught  the  yel- 
low document  in  his  hand.  "What  is  that  you  have 
there  ?  " 

He  held  it  out  to  her,  "  I  found  it — lining  my 
yellow  box.     I  had  it  at  Whortley." 

She  took  it  and  perceived  a  chronological  scheme. 
It  was  headed  "  Schema,"  there  were  memoranda 
in  the  margin,  and  all  the  dates  had  been  altered  by 
a  hasty  hand. 

318 


THE  CROWNING  VICTORY  319 

"  Hasn't  it  got  yellow  ?  "  she  said. 

That  seemed  to  him  the  wrong  thing  for  her  to 
say.  He  stared  at  the  document  with  a  sudden  ac- 
cession of  sympathy.  There  was  an  interval.  He 
became  aware  of  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  that 
she  was  bending  over  him.  "  Dear,"  she  whispered, 
with  a  strange  change  in  the  quality  of  her  voice. 
He  knew  she  was  seeking  to  say  something  that  was 
difficult  to  say. 

"  Yes  ?  "  he  said  presently. 

"  You  are  not  grieving?  " 

"  What  about  ?  " 

"  This." 

"No!" 

"  You  are  not — you  are  not  even  sorry  ? "  she 
said. 

"  No — not  even  sorry." 

"  I  can't  understand  that.     It's  so  much — M 

"  I'm  glad,"  he  proclaimed.     "  Glad" 

"  But — the  trouble — the  expense — everything — 
and  your  work  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that's  just  it." 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully.  He  glanced  up  at 
her,  and  she  questioned  his  eyes.  He  put  his  arm 
about  her,  and  presently  and  almost  absent-mind- 
edly she  obeyed  his  pressure  and  bent  down  and 
kissed  him. 

"  It  settles   things,"  he    said  holding  her.     M  It 


32o         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

joins  us.  Don't  you  see?  Before  .  .  .  But  now  it's 
different.  It's  something  we  have  between  us.  It's 
something  that  .  .  .  It's  the  link  we  needed.  It 
will  hold  us  together,  cement  us  together.  It  will 
be  our  life.  This  will  be  my  work  now.  The 
other  .  .  ." 

He  faced  a  truth.     "  It  was  just  .  .  .  vanity  !  " 

There  was  still  a  shade  of  doubt  in  her  face,  a 
wistfulness. 

Presently  she  spoke. 

"  Dear,"  she  said. 

"Yes?" 

She  knitted  her  brows.  "  No !  "  she  said.  "  I 
can't  say  it." 

In  the  interval  she  came  into  a  sitting  position  on 
his  knees. 

He  kissed  her  hand,  but  her  face  remained  grave, 
and  she  looked  out  upon  the  twilight.  "  I  know  I'm 
stupid,"  she  said.  "The  things  I  say  .  .  .  aren't 
the  things  I  feel." 

He  waited  for  her  to  say  more. 

"  It's  no  good,"  she  said. 

He  felt  the  onus  of  expression  lay  on  him.  He 
too  found  it  a  little  difficult  to  put  into  words.  "  I 
think  I  understand,"  he  said,  and  wrestled  with  the 
impalpable.  The  pause  seemed  long  and  yet  not 
altogether  vacant.  She  lapsed  abruptly  into  the 
prosaic.     She  started  from  him. 


THE  CROWNING  VICTORY  321 

"  If  I  don't  go  down,  Mother  will  get  supper  ..." 

At  the  door  she  stopped  and  turned  a  twilight 
face  to  him.  For  a  moment  they  scrutinised  one 
another.  To  her  he  was  no  more  than  a  dim  out- 
line.    Impulsively  he  held  out  his  arms.  .  .  . 

Then  at  the  sound  of  a  movement  downstairs  she 
freed  herself  and  hurried  out.  He  heard  her  call 
"  Mother  !  You're  not  to  lay  supper.  You're  to  rest." 

He  listened  to  her  footsteps  until  the  kitchen  had 
swallowed  them  up.  Then  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the 
Schema  again  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  but  a 
little  thing. 

He  picked  it  up  in  both  hands  and  looked  at  it  as 
if  it  was  the  writing  of  another  man,  and  indeed  it 
was  the  writing  of  another  man.  "  Pamphlets  in  the 
Liberal  Interest,"  he  read,  and  smiled. 

Presently  a  train  of  thought  carried  him  off.  His 
attitude  relaxed  a  little,  the  Schema  became  for  a 
time  a  mere  symbol,  a  point  of  departure,  and  he 
stared  out  of  the  window  at  the  darkling;  night. 
For  a  long  time  he  sat  pursuing  thoughts  that  were 
half  emotions,  emotions  that  took  upon  themselves 
the  shape  and  substance  of  ideas.  The  deepening 
current  stirred  at  last  among  the  roots  of  speech. 

"  Yes,  it  was  vanity,"  he  said.  "  A  boy's  vanity. 
For  me — anyhow.  I'm  too  two-sided  .  .  .  Two- 
sided  ?  .  .  .  Commonplace  ! 

"  Dreams  like  mine — abilities  like  mine.     Yes — 
21 


322         LOVE  AND  MR.  LEWISHAM 

any  man !  And  yet  .  .  . — The  things  I  meant  to 
do!" 

His  thoughts  went  to  his  Socialism,  to  his  red- 
hot  ambition  of  world  mending.  He  marvelled  at 
the  vistas  he  had  discovered  since  those  days. 

"  Not  for  us —  Not  for  us. 

"  We  must  perish  in  the  wilderness. — Some  day. 
Somewhen.     But  not  for  us.  .  .  . 

"  Come  to  think,  it  is  all  the  Child.  The  future 
is  the  Child.  The  Future.  What  are  we — any  of 
us — but  servants  or  traitors  to  that  ?  .  .  • 

"  Natural  Selection — it  follows  .  .  .  this  way  is 
happiness  .  .  .  must  be.     There  can  be  no  other." 

He  sighed.     "  To  last  a  lifetime,  that  is. 

"  And  yet — it  is  almost  as  if  Life  had  played  me 
a  trick — promised  so  much — given  so  little  !  .  .  . 

"  No  !  One  must  not  look  at  it  in  that  way  !  That 
will  not  do  !     That  will  not  do. 

"  Career !  In  itself  it  is  a  career — the  most  im- 
portant career  in  the  world.  Father  !  Why  should 
I  want  more  ? 

"  And  .  .  .  Ethel !  No  wonder  she  seemed  shal- 
low .  .  .  She  has  been  shallow.  No  wonder  she 
was  restless.  Unfulfilled  .  .  .  What  had  she  to  do  ? 
She  was  drudge,  she  was  toy  .  .  . 

"  Yes.  This  is  life.  This  alone  is  life !  For  this 
we  were  made  and  born.  All  these  other  things — 
all  other  things — they  are  only  a  sort  of  play  .  .  . 


THE  CROWNING  VICTORY  323 

"  Play !  " 

His  eyes  came  back  to  the  Schema.  His  hands 
shifted  to  the  opposite  corner  and  he  hesitated. 
The  vision  of  that  arranged  Career,  that  ordered 
sequence  of  work  and  successes,  distinctions  and  yet 
further  distinctions,  rose  brightly  from  the  symbol. 
Then  he  compressed  his  lips  and  tore  the  yellow 
sheet  in  half,  tearing  very  deliberately.  He  doubled 
the  halves  and  tore  again,  doubled  again  very  care- 
fully and  neatly  until  the  Schema  was  torn  into 
numberless  little  pieces.  With  it  he  seemed  to  be 
tearing  his  past  self. 

"  Play,"  he  whispered  after  a  long  silence. 

"  It  is  the  end  of  adolescence,"  he  said ;  "  the 
end  of  empty  dreams.  .  .  ." 

He  became  very  still,  his  hands  resting  on  the 
table,  his  eyes  staring  out  of  the  blue  oblong  of  the 
window.  The  dwindling  light  gathered  itself  to- 
gether and  became  a  star. 

He  found  he  was  still  holding  the  torn  fragments. 
He  stretched  out  his  hand  and  dropped  them  into 
that  new  waste  paper  basket  Ethel  had  bought  for 
him. 

Two  pieces  fell  outside  the  basket.  He  stooped, 
picked  them  up  and  put  them  carefully  with  their 
fellows. 

THE   END. 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


C00D322T77 


